Duality
by tomfoolerykitten
Summary: Draco Malfoy plots to seduce Harry Potter by joining him on an Auror mission. They soon find themselves caught in a werewolf rebellion and Draco has a few deadly secrets of his own to unveil. Warnings: slash, non-con. don't like, don't read.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: All rights go to J.K. Rowling. I just like to borrow her characters and play with them like dolls.**

**A/N: So, welcome all, to a new fanfic of mine. I've heard common request for a sequel to Liberation (which if you haven't read it, you should wander on over to check it out). Given the nature of the ending to Liberation, it's kind of hard to know what might constitute as a sequel, but I'd like to call this a sequel of sorts, anyway, while still working as a stand alone. You won't need to know anything I may have mentioned in Liberation, so do not fret!**

There were two things Harry Potter was certain about. One was that he'd made the right decision in filing those divorce papers. He felt liberated for the first time since defeating Voldemort. The fact that his own wife had become a veritable ball and chain in the past eleven years was ironic. He never did allow himself time after the war to really explore who he was and who he had the potential to become without the expectations of saving the wizarding world hanging over his head. He could just be himself- just Harry.

But so many things got in the way of him discovering who this Just Harry was. The Weasleys were all pressuring him and Ginny to get back together after finally reuniting after a year's worth of being apart. Ron in particular. They were all so charmed by the very idea of having him as an official member of the family via marriage that he'd gotten sucked in. He'd made himself believe he was in love with her and after the war, he'd sort of… well- stuck his foot in it. He couldn't break it off with Ginny without losing Ron as a friend and therefore his whole surrogate family with him. He had been sure of it.

So he'd married her. Stupidest mistake he'd ever made. That was what led him to the other thing: his sixteen-year-old fixation with Draco Malfoy had not been entirely innocent. He hadn't been spying on him solely for the purpose of accusing him of attempting to murder Dumbledore (even though he had been right all along). In fact, it had been something more- something much more. Something that he dared suspect had to do with the way he thought he felt for Ginny. All that sexual tension between them… it made him all roiled up inside and it finally exploded when he turned to Ginny as an outlet. Oh, it was far more than a simple fixation- it was _infatuation_. He'd seen something in Draco Malfoy that he couldn't shake, not even to this very day. Not throughout his marriage. In fact, he'd go so far as to believe he'd never stopped thinking about Draco.

It was hardly rational, this obsession. After all, they hadn't seen each other in years since they'd each settled down and had children. Harry'd still kept tabs on Draco though. For old times sake. He'd kept the Prophet clipping of his wedding announcement, just to confirm that they truly had moved on their lives. Harry had married his ideal partner and so had Draco. So whatever that was left between them was clearly buried deep in memory, lost to the old school days, locked tight behind Hogwarts walls.

Draco was working in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes within the Ministry. Potions was his specialty. Of course. Harry was surprised they didn't run into each other often at the Ministry. After all, his work in the Auror department would have led him at some point to the Magical Accidents and Catastrophes Department. Surely. But curiously, he'd never received any Potions related case. He would have thought potions would have been just as popular an attack mechanism as curses or spells gone awry.

It was therefore with a jolt of excitement that Harry received his latest case, which cited Draco Malfoy as his go-to contact. His heart pounded away in his chest, anxious to get a good glimpse at the man he had been secretly pining over for ten years.

It was silly, really. Harry knew. But it was only just now that he felt it was right that he let his silly little crush manifest. After all, he was a free man. He had no wife to tie him down or tell him what to do or demand where he had been the previous night… (a part of him had been glad that Ginny had caught him with that blond in the pub on his birthday. Merlin only knew he hadn't been Harry's first.) But no longer did he have to sneak around in search for the perfect Draco Malfoy doppelganger to live out his wildest fantasies. He could go after the man himself. And he would be a challenge. That, Harry had no doubt.

~.~.~.~.~

Draco Malfoy had come up with an elaborate scheme to lure Harry Potter down to his office. He knew he could have just wandered down there for a little chat himself, but where would the fun be in that? Instead, he intentionally botched up a brew of mass produced Wolfsbane potion, which had now been sold enough to cause quite the stir in werewolf activities. And surely, nothing would excite Potter more than a werewolf hunt. And if Draco was lucky enough, he'd be able to do it at Potter's side. He sneered at the very idea. _Oh, Draco, you are a pure genius,_ he thought to himself.

Soon, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and saviour of the wizarding world would be his.


	2. Let's Not Wait

**A/N: After consulting the plot fairies, I think you might find that this is a shockingly far cry from whatever you may have expected as a sequel to Liberation (to those of you loyal readers who have read it... ^^) Alternate universes are wonderfully flexible. In case anyone's worried, nothing's deviated from the canon track except for the obvious pairing. And a twist, of course. ;)  
**

Harry was growing restless. It had been hours they had been camped out here, outside this run down old mansion that slightly resembled the Shrieking Shack. Sitting back to back with Draco Malfoy, he should have considered himself lucky. Oh yes, he was the luckiest man on Earth. Here he was, sitting in very close contact with in all likelihood, the man of his dreams. All alone. And yet, he knew he wouldn't be here if it weren't for his stupid pride. If he could have had his way, he would have rapped this case up weeks ago. Unfortunately, his new _side kick_ didn't work that way. In fact, he would do all that he could to sabatoge any plans he had for bringing this case to a close. He didn't know what Malfoy was playing at, but he didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit.

He was beginning to think this little crush of his had been all for naught. Draco Malfoy was still the stuck up, arrogant git he had left behind at school. He hadn't changed a single bit. All he appeared to care about was besting Harry. In practically bloody everything. Like a silly little child. So it was obvious that Draco had it in his best interest to catch their most recent lycanthrope target before Harry.

It was bad enough that they had to set traps for these poor men. Harry wished he didn't have to do it. But it was for their own protection. Werewolves were highly unstable and unpredictable creatures. And for them to have been given dodgy Wolfsbane… well, this was just a disaster in the making if they didn't stop it now.

Thankfully, there appeared to be an element in the potion that at least prevented any werewolf attack from being fatal. It was something Harry found unusual, given the fact that the potion primarily stirred a changed werewolf into a frenzy, instead of the calming effect it should have had. That thought alone made Harry believe perhaps it wasn't deliberately tampered with. If it had been, this was some seriously sick joke. People _were_ getting attacked. For a potion to go so completely and utterly wrong and to get through regulation checks… well, either the Ministry was getting lazy or they had some sick fuck on their hands. But if they did have a psychopath on their hands, why hadn't he made the potion fatal?

Malfoy had no answers for him. Or if he did, he was never in the mood to share. Typical. He'd sat himself down across from Harry at his desk and laid out precisely what they were dealing with and what to look out for when watching over werewolves. He'd suggested going down into the wolf packs themselves- everyone knew they were out there, down in the underworld of wizarding society. The darkest of werewolves, anyway. There had been werewolves anonymous support groups for the war survivors. It was likely they'd get the biggest hit to the tampered potion- they were the Wolfsbane Potion's biggest demographic.

Harry toyed with the idea that it had been one of the darker werewolves like Greyback who had messed with the potions as a form of anarchy. He tried to tease as much of out Malfoy as possible, but he was as tight lipped as ever. He didn't know what his problem was!

So, here they were, waiting outside a dilapidated building, for any sight or sound of a rampant werewolf. They had set charms up both to protect the two of them and identify any werewolf threat from a hundred mile radius. He would have very much preferred to be out there, in action instead of sitting here, waiting with an all but silent Malfoy at his back.

He was starting to get stiff. He shifted awkwardly in his place, causing his spine to rub sensuously against Malfoy's cloaked back. A thrill jolted through them both. "Watch it, Potter," Malfoy sneered, secretly very much enjoying the brush of physical contact between them.

"If we sit here any longer, Malfoy, I won't be able to do my job. I'm stiff as it is," Harry bit back in an acidic tone. He didn't know how he had developed such a silly, naïve idyllic view of Malfoy in the past ten years they had been apart but it had all quiet immediately vanished. But damn it all, he still felt that pull toward him. And he wasn't giving up that easy.

"Is that so?" Malfoy quipped with an arch of a brow, turning his head to better gage the look on Potter's face. "There's a remedy for that, you know. In fact, I hear I'm rather expert. With these hands…"

Harry's eyes widened at the implication. "You're sick, Malfoy, you know that." It was a companionable statement that pleased Draco more than anything. He shifted in a slow deliberate way, just so, to cause a great shiver to run up and down Harry's spine.

"Quite, Potter. My offer still stands," he smirked devilishly. "I could show you a good time."

Harry's mouth went dry. He was really doing this. Malfoy was really flirting with him. It wasn't all just there, in his head. He wasn't dreaming. And he was offering himself to him. Could he take it? Just like that? There had to be a catch. "Show me a good time by letting me actually _do_ something," he replied, scrambling awkwardly to his feet. His legs were numb from sitting for hours.

Within moments, Malfoy was back to his feet too, in a far more graceful manner. "Oh, I'll let you _do_ something, Potter," he smirked, reaching out to wrap an arm forcefully around his waist and pulling Harry to him. His hand snatched at his hip and held him there.

Harry's breathing hitched. He could feel Malfoy's breath on his face, warm and wanton. They searched each other's eyes, wary of one another's intentions. They stepped around each other like a well choreographed ballroom dance, Malfoy's arm still around Harry's waist. His hand slid lower and squeezed. A hint of lust flashed through those flinty grey eyes and Harry could contain himself no longer. He grabbed for that aristocratic face, with all it's sharp edges and contours and slammed his lips to that haughty mouth.

Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.


	3. Let's Just Go

**A/N: So, I think I've been neglecting my duties in urging you all to Read & Review. How silly of me. Do drop me a little something if you think this story is worth the read. I do appreciate feedback, good or bad. And just... enjoy, really. ;)**

Potter was off and running before Draco could truly process what had happened. He could still feel the feverish heat of him on his skin. The night air was unwelcome in whisking that feeling away from him too soon. He glanced up at the moon, a perfect glowing sphere, suspended on the black canvas alongside a scattering of stars. Darkness would serve him well tonight.

Potter hadn't even looked back. Draco took his merry time in wandering down into the forest ahead. Whatever Potter had in mind, he trusted he knew what he was doing. He did this on practically a daily basis, after all. Chasing after werewolves was probably all in a day's work. All he'd need to do is tranquilize it.

He took a deep breath, recognizing the moon's pull, creeping deep under his flesh. He tried to steady his breathing, shut his eyes. He could last a little while longer. If he tried. For Potter. He'd try for Potter. With shaking hands, he pulled a vial out of his pocket. Raising it up toward the moonlight, the little crystal bottle gleamed bluish in the night. He uncorked it and downed its contents as quick and easy as pumpkin juice. Potter needed to know he could keep control.

~.~.~.~.~

Harry had completely forgotten Draco by the time he was half way through the thicket of woods. He had to focus. The creature was close. There were tracks; disturbances in the soil, the fallen leaves, crunched and broken in cracks. He cast a discrete _lumos_ and kept up his guard. Tracking werewolves were far more dangerous than he'd expected. Of course, his experience with Lupin back in his third year at Hogwarts had set his expectations. But it was always different. Werewolf habits were erratic at best and there was no knowing what they might do to you.

He slipped on his invisibility cloak for good measure.

A flash of white caught in the corner of his eye for the briefest of seconds. He blinked, flinching into action. He could smell the heady scent of wolf. So close. He kept his focus keen, squinting in the darkness. His heart accelerated at an alarming rate. No matter how many times he'd gone after the wolves, he'd never get over that initial fear induced adrenaline. It pumped through his veins as that fight or flight reflex set in. He never liked not knowing where his target might be. He listened for the heavy pant of a beast's breath or the padding of footprints at a sprint against damp earth.

It was beginning to rain and the drops drowned out any subtle sounds of the creature. Harry settled into a crouch and concentrated on the earth.

A sharp shriek rang out, followed by a guttural snarl and he knew the beast was practically on top of him. It had caught something- or stumbled across it anyway. There was another magical creature out there, fighting for its territory. Or maybe even for its life.

The inhuman shriek fell away to canine whimpers as a struggle became clear to Harry's perked ears. There were two of them. Harry's breathing hitched. He'd never caught two at once! Werewolves usually let themselves loose independently, for fear of hurting one another. From Harry's research, he'd found they caused significantly less damage to each other as wolves, but as soon as the transformation fell away, accumulated wounds were just as bad as any human being's. He had to prevent this wolf fight from going too far. The last thing he wanted was for someone to get killed. They never were in their right minds.

He was careful to make the least amount of sound possible as he crept toward the resonance. He turned a corner, leaning against a knotted tree trunk for support, with enough distance to at least stun them both. Somewhere in the back of his head, he wondered where Malfoy had gotten to. The smallest part of him worried about his safety. What with rampant werewolves on the loose… Could Malfoy protect himself like Harry could on his own? Or had he simply played the coward as he usually had? Had he run away from danger just as simply as Harry had run toward it?

There _were_ two of them, from what he could see. One- the fair-coated canine lay on its back, belly up with its wolfish companion at its neck. There was dark blood tainting that immaculate coat in rough clots as it dried with the blustering winds. The pelting rain slicked both furs, pushing it back against the storm. It reached up with a menacing front paw to beat away its russet attacker. With a snarl, the dog had rolled back onto its feet and was swatting away with deadly claws, hackles up and teeth bared. Even so, the creature fumbled, weakened by blood loss. Harry took this opportunity to extend his wand toward the pitiful thing. A white light shot from the tip and hit the great shoulder of the beast. With a familiar yelp, it fumbled drunkenly back down to the muddy ground. Harry shot the other before it had time to attack once more.

He had to bring them back to the Ministry for assessment. It was crucial to keep them tranquilized for as long as possible in order to ascertain any potion that may have been ingested within the past few hours. He'd have to get a team down here- he couldn't drag two of these canines down to the labs with him. One was hard enough.

Where was Malfoy when he needed him?


	4. Let's Forget it All

One of Harry's werewolves was seriously injured. His neck had been torn in the worst possible place and had he been in human form at the time of the attack, he would have been dead. He watched from behind a one way view window as the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes officials followed out their assessment. Both wolves had yet to transform back. At least his blond had stopped losing blood. He never liked watching this process. Any of it. There was a lot of extraction of magic; of blood; of DNA… it was all so complicated and really, an irritation. Why someone thought it a brilliant idea to contaminate a Wolfsbane potion of all things was beyond him. This was a royal mess.

He didn't want to think about the other men, locked up in cages for experimentation, having been caught in the previous weeks. Some had come willingly, having heard of the widespread crisis. Most of them were just glad it wasn't just them. They were all beyond furious though, and Harry really didn't want to get on the wrong side of a werewolf. No matter how tame they were.

There was something unsettling about all this. For someone so insistent on being a part of this case, Malfoy was eerily absent in the most crucial part. This was his department, after all. True, this was the damage control center, but still… he would have thought Malfoy would be here to at least evaluate the results of the tests. Why wasn't Malfoy here to do his job?

He'd tried to get into contact with him. Via floo (he wasn't home); via letter (he'd received no reply); via official Ministry memo (he obviously hadn't received it, otherwise he'd be here by now). Or maybe he was just being ignored. It was a perfectly Malfoy thing to do. If Harry was correct in suspecting he'd turned tail and run last night, Malfoy was clearly too ashamed to show his face.

_Good riddance,_ Harry couldn't help but think. He didn't know why he cared, really. He didn't need Malfoy to help him do his job. Well… it was nice to have back up, but really. Malfoy? He could do better. But there was still that tiny part of him that worried. That tug on his heart that told him that he wanted him there just to have him close. Their previous touches sent a thrill through his skin and it was clear to him that that was the only reason why he was feeling Malfoy's absence so completely. He needed that proximity. It was nice knowing the feeling was mutual. It had been at the time, anyway.

"This one's been dosed with Wolfsbane. Taken a few minutes before transformation," one of the Ministry officials announced upon wrapping up evaluation. He fell to at Harry's elbow, watching the blond, laying on its side in a drug induced stupor. "It's not your ordinary Wolfsbane though. It's got added ingredients. We'll have to cross check those to be certain there wasn't anything hostile in it. Our other wolf ingested tampered Wolfsbane a good week ago. Whoever's in charge of distributing these things should have halted production weeks ago. This is a disaster."

Harry nodded, biting his lip. "And not knowing what's been tampered with and what's not, it's a bit of a luck of the draw really," he conceded. "Not all of them believe the stories are true. They think it's just in their nature. There should be a ban. But not everyone is willing to stop selling Wolfsbane. What with the profit it's drawn in the the recent years… and people don't want to risk having werewolves running riot in the streets."

The official inclined his head. "We'll have to talk to this one when he comes to. He was either very lucky or knows what he's doing," he replied, nodding toward their blond. Harry quietly agreed and was left to think this through.

Really, the Ministry had handled this rather poorly. They had taken a day to halt production in order to discard that whole batch of potion and replace it with a completely fresh brew. But that didn't stop the potions that were already out there. In shops. On the market. In homes. They were everywhere. And there was no knowing who had purchased the faulty potions and who was safe. And shops were reluctant to stop supplying Wolfsbane. Many businessmen were ignorant and had enough arrogance to believe that their batch wasn't the bad one. There was a liability here. There had to be laws put in place and fast. There had to be health and safety regulations. Evaluations… Enough to make Harry's head hurt. Essentially, everything had to be shut down and rebooted. It was too much a change for anyone to actually follow through.

To hell with pure blood tradition.

He had a bone to pick with Malfoy. This was the sort of thing he was supposed to be on top of! Indeed, he had several choice words for the slimy ferret.

He had to get out of here before he broke something. Or worse, tracked the bastard down and killed him. Damn his incompetence! He couldn't let anyone else get hurt!

~.~.~.~.~

"You alright, mate?" Ron inquired sometime later at the corner pub Harry had suggested. Harry was still on edge from the previous night's werewolf round up. There were still so many questions left unanswered.

Harry huffed in response. "Yeah. I just… it's Malfoy. He's pissing me off."

Ron smirked. "That bad to work with, is he? What's he done this time?"

"What _hasn't_ he done?" Harry rolled his eyes. "I could kill him."

"So this thing… this thing between you two-" Ron started cautiously, leaning in close enough for Harry to worry about where he was going with this inquiry. He wondered if he somehow_ knew_ Harry was harboring a foolishly childish crush on his nemesis that he just couldn't shake. He'd been worried about how Ron would take his divorcing Ginny and he just couldn't handle this on top of everything else. He couldn't lose Ron like this. "-hasn't changed at all. In the past ten years. You'd think it'd be enough to cool you down. But you two are at it worse than ever."

Harry's eyes widened. "I don't… I don't like Malfoy in that way! I don't_ see_ him in that way!"

Ron furrowed his brow. "Alright, Harry. If you say so," he shook his head with a small smirk tugging at his lips. "But really, I would have thought you'd remember something like a rivalry as bitter as yours."

Harry was aghast. Of course Ron didn't know a thing. His cheeks flared with heat. "Right. Yeah… Rivalry. That's all it is. That's _all _it is. And that's all it's ever going to be. Because Draco Malfoy is a git."

~.~.~.~.~

The name on the evaluation papers Harry had in his hands threw him. What in Merlin's name…? The results for the assessments had arrived via memo not five minutes previously. There must have been some kind of mistake. It couldn't possibly… What did this mean?

He grabbed his cloak and threw it over his shoulders, prepared to head down to the lab. He picked up his pace as the new information settled into his mind. It wasn't possible. No. No way. He was running at full sprint and gasping for breath by the time he'd made it into quarantine. He placed his palm to the glass as he looked in.

_No_.

There, lying crippled on the cot before him was a pale body, lithe, slender and utterly naked. He lay on his side, his knees bent and his lips down turned. He twitched in his sleep as if in the throws of a nightmare. His fairer than fair locks fell into his face, dampened and slick with sweat. His sharp features were made all the more severe with the crusting of blood at his neck.

He was altogether far too thin. Harry could see that now where he hadn't before. He felt every bit the voyeur, watching that man, vulnerable on the bed, with a swaddle of crisp white sheets rejected in a knot at the foot. He was captivated by the furrow of silvery brow as he moaned in his sleep. Harry was ashamed to find his eyes roving over that pale form. It was just his luck that his subject would face toward him and the window, unknowing. There was a distinct scar that cleaved from his jutting ribs down toward that tantalizing growth of fair hair at his groin. Harry swallowed thickly. He knew that scar. He had hewn that scar with his own wand, unaware that he was the one to tear his enemy asunder.

"Oh god," he breathed, beginning to feel the full tilt of the world on its axis as it all sunk in. Those eyelids burst open and he was met with piercing grey. At that very moment, Harry knew he was lost. "Draco- what have you _done_?"

**R&R and you will be dually rewarded. ;)**


	5. Let's Never Leave

**A/N: Expect this to get a little saucy... or a lot. ;) Man on man action... if you don't like, don't read cuz it's only gonna get smuttier from here. ;) And please read&review because writers like to feel loved. I know, right? Who'd have thought?**

Draco was hurting in every possible place when he awoke. He was cold. So cold. His temperature had dropped over night. It hurt to move his head, but he did so anyway, despite the pain. It took a moment to acclimatize his eyes to the light pouring into the room around him. He wasn't home. This most certainly was not home. Had he gone home with someone last night? Not likely.

His head pounded, rendering it impossible for him to focus on one thing. Where was he? He tried to sit up but- "Don't move," came a voice next to him. A familiar voice. A comforting voice. A voice he'd only dreamed of waking up to.

His eyes tracked toward the owner of the voice. And there was Potter, sitting at the end of his bed, looking over at him with that sympathetic gaze. "What are you looking at?" he spat, out of mere reflex. If he wanted to bed Potter, he'd have to do better than that. Twenty years of rivalry wouldn't undo all those threats and tauntings. They were simply there, programmed into his mind, imprinted on his tongue. He simply couldn't help it.

Potter chose to ignore this rude quip and moved over to come face to face with Draco. His blond companion blinked. "How- how are you feeling?" he offered tenderly, reaching out to take Draco's hand but then thought against it at the last second and withdrew.

"Just peachy," he bit back, trying to shift into a more comfortable position. It hurt to even move. "Might I ask how in Salazar Slytherin's name I got here, Potter?"

Potter's lip twitched. "In all honesty, Malfoy, I'd thought you could tell me."

Draco rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling. Clasped his thumbs. "Oh yes, Saint Potter. Needs to know my whole life story so that he might save yet another life. Just wonderful."

The dark haired Auror inspected him thoughtfully with the slightest tilt of his head. Why wasn't he making any snide come backs? Why wasn't he being hexed to oblivion in this hospital bed? When Potter finally did rise, Draco was afraid he was going to be struck a fell blow to the head. Instead, something rather extraordinary happened.

Harry reached out once more, this time, caressing the bruised and battered skin of Draco's cheek. He hissed at the physical contact. Harry's fingers burned against his skin. But they didn't stop. They continued their affectionate wandering toward his prominent jaw line, catching on the rough bristle that was the neglect of his grooming. It was always the worst as full moon approached. Those lithe fingers trailed up into the thicket of white blond hair and carded through it. Draco barely dared breathe as Harry's other hand came down against the pillow to the left of his ear. He could easily detect his every facial feature from this angle, gazing into that face. His lips pulled into a sneer as he reached up to return the caresses, almost absentmindedly. Harry smiled, equally as absentminded, pleased with this gesture.

Draco found his forefinger at Harry's bottom lip. He traced the fullness there until a tongue darted out and that mouth curled around the single digit. They never once broke eye contact as Harry watched Draco watching him suck at his slender finger.

Mindful not to break their carefully constructed spell, he gradually slipped his finger away from between Harry's teeth. Harry bit down playfully, to catch and keep the tip there, all his.

The irony hit Draco like a jolt and he was back to feeling self conscious again, Harry's fingers still sifting through his sweat matted hair. He needed bathing. And soon. He squirmed under Harry's touch but he was held firmly in place.

"Why didn't you say anything, Draco?" Harry inquired, so close, Draco could feel his hot breath on his cheek.

Draco turned his head in order to avoid eye contact. He didn't want to look at him anymore. Not when he had that glint in those emerald eyes that said, "all I want to do is help you, Draco." He didn't want Harry Potter's pity. He hadn't gone through with this just to gain his pity. If he had, he would have told him from the off. "Don't know… what you're talking about," he resisted, putting up the pretence that Potter had not just acknowledged the fact that he was a werewolf. It was bound to happen sometime.

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," Potter challenged, swiping absently at his bottom lip with the dart of his tongue. "You changed last night, Malfoy. You took a Wolfsbane Potion- I have your file right here."

Draco squeezed his eyes shut tight, hoping absently that when he opened them again, Potter would be gone. "I know my Potions, Potter. I think I'd know a faulty Wolfsbane Potion when I see one."

"That's not the point," Harry insistent, his words slow, steady, a driving force toward Draco's eventual admissions. "That's not the point at all. The point is that you had to take it in the first place." His hand shot out once more, his fingers curling back against his jaw and pushed his chin upward so that Draco was back to staring into his eyes. "Who did this to you, Draco?"

Draco's breathing hitched at hearing his name- his first name on Potter's lips. He liked the way it sounded there, the way his mouth shaped it into those two syllables, drawn out as if they could resonate eternally and Potter wouldn't mind one single bit. "I… the Dark Lord." He swallowed, admitting his defeat for the first time to someone other than himself. "Fed me to Greyback. As punishment."

Harry watched him intently. "For not killing Dumbledore?" he interrogated, keeping every emotion at bay. Draco's eyes snapped right back to his in surprise. "I was there. The night Dumb… the night he died. He offered you a second chance. He offered you sanctuary. And you were that close to taking it; to joining us."

Draco let out a small whimper of defeat. What he wouldn't give just to have those hands roving over him once more, that worship of his body, as if he could do no wrong. For he knew, that as soon as Potter was though with this investigation of his, he'd be through with him to. No one would take a failed Death Eater. Especially not Saint Potter.

"I want to offer you sanctuary, Draco. The way Dumbledore did. I can keep you safe," Harry admitted instead. The last thing Draco expected him to say. His eyes sought Harry's again and they had him; they had him so completely, Draco had no words, none at all to express his gratitude or even to decline his offer. So Harry kept talking. "I've have experience with werewolves. Professor Lupin is a close friend of mine. I've watched over him before. Let me take care of you, Draco. Please."

With his vocabulary still lacking, Draco did the only other thing he knew to express his thanks. He placed his hand securely to his companion's jaw and pulled his face down toward him. His lips sought Harry's and within seconds, they were falling. It all happened agonizingly slow, that friction between them. But that was precisely how they wanted; needed it to be. This was a promise; a promise, Harry was making to him and he wanted to make it last. He let a small moan slip against Harry's mouth when he remembered.

"One minor problem," he noted between kisses. Harry's lips strayed to nip at his jawline. Harry hummed mildly to announce that he was listening. "My… my-" he was having trouble concentrating, what with that mouth latching on to the junction of his neck where the other werewolf had bit him last night. "Wife, Potter. My wife." His eyes rolled and he no longer cared a wit about his wife.

But those lips halted abruptly as Harry hauled his face back up to meet Draco's gaze. "Your _wife_?"

Draco braced himself for the impact of the blow Harry would surely grant him this time. "_Ex_ wife, actually," he squeaked to remedy this. "She… only sticks around to deal with my transformations. She'll stay with me. Through the night. Makes sure I don't wake up in the middle of the night and destroy the Manor."

Harry searched his face for any dishonesty. He found none. "You'll have me," he insisted forcefully, tugging possessively at a fistful of fair hair, still clenched in his right hand. "Let me be yours, Draco."

Draco wanted nothing more than to submit to Potter right now and be done with it. But his ordeal was far more complex than he could explain. "My son…"

"I have kids too," Harry offered childishly as if this was a mere exploration of what they had in common. "And an ex wife to boot. We're not so different, the two of us," he murmured against his skin and his lips fell to Draco's once more.

Draco had a dreadful feeling this would only carry on if he consented to letting Potter take him home. And like a loyal lap dog, he'd follow wherever Potter led. He began to doubt who had instigated this after all. He had been so certain he'd be the one seducing Potter. And here he was, ready and waiting for him. With a loaded promise he'd be foolish to be expected to keep.


	6. Let's Pretend this is Real

**A/N: Watch out for major major smut alert. And might I also say, for having an 80+ following of loyal readers, it's awfully quiet in here. Please do Read & Review, I can't stress that enough. If there's something you like or something you don't like, please, do let me know so that I can write more or less of it as requested. :) I'm open to any suggestions. ^^**

"Careful," Harry warned as he eased Draco into his bed. He was still hurting from his injuries and Harry didn't want to risk making his wounds worse.

"I'm a werewolf," Draco stated gruffly from beneath him as he pressed his head to the pillow. His eyes rolled, laced with sarcasm. "Not porcelain, Potter."

Harry smiled fondly at the biting comment. He pulled away. "I know."

Draco huffed as he watched Harry turn his back. "Is this how it's going to be then?" he spat, scowling at his retreating form. "You're going to put me in your bed and leave me here."

Harry turned back around, jaw slack. He returned to Draco's bedside in a frantic rush. "No," he shook his head. "No. That's not what this is. I… don't want to hurt you," he amended cautiously, pulling back the covers and slipping in beside him. Draco let in a sharp intake of breath. Harry stretched his legs and Draco could feel his big toe graze the back of his calf.

"You're the only person I would trust to hurt me, Potter," he admitted as that naked toe continued its strokes up and down his leg. "I've been aching for you for years."

Harry blinked, his memories of Malfoy running rampant. Suddenly their whole rivalry looked very different in his eyes. These past twenty years… He couldn't help it when he reached out to brush that fair hair away from obstructing those grey orbs that bore into him so sincerely.

"You gonna kiss me, Potter? Some time tonight?" Malfoy sneered, which only became fuel for Harry's fire; that push over the edge. "Kiss me… Kill me… I really don't give Merlin's bollocks what you do to me. Just whatever you do, do it now."

Potter's tongue darted out and claimed him before sealing the deal with his promised kiss. And Draco readily complied. But it was Draco's hands that came to rest under Harry's threadbare shirt, slipping oh so slowly up toward his abs. He raised his arms to allow the shirt to be eased over his head. There was an excruciating pain and desperation deep inside them that was just bursting to tear forth to the surface.

"Are you sure?" Harry paused in their tearing at one another's clothes, his fingers poised on Draco's belt loop.

Draco had never been sure about anything else in his life. "Shut up and fuck me already, Potter," he retorted, raising his hips as if to drive the point home.

Harry didn't need to be told twice as he explored his once rival's body with appreciative hands. There were bones jutting out in places they shouldn't. It gave Harry pride knowing that he would be the one to nurse those bones back to health. And perhaps from that rib- that rib right there, something wonderful might spring of this.

"I want you, Draco," Harry gasped, hands roving, grasping, pushing, pulling, pressing in any direction- _any _direction they could without bringing Malfoy further pain.

"Show me," was Draco's demand and he parted himself for him. Harry's hands took hold of his left thigh. He lowered his dark head toward that flesh and an expert tongue darted out to trace a long, wet line along that tender skin. Malfoy let out a pretty mewl. Harry grinned up at him. He received a scowl in return. Harry watched with a challenge in his eyes as fingers tip toed toward his puckered hole. Draco held on to that challenge with a quirked brow, daring his nemesis to do it.

A solitary finger breeched him. He bucked. He wanted nothing more than to molest that mouth once more or at least to find purchase in tearing at the flesh of his shoulder with his teeth in the wake of orgasm.

Another finger. Those two digits scissored inside him, seeking to stretch and open him. Draco didn't want to wait. It had been too long and he had only ever experienced them in his wildest dreams and fantasies.

"Now," he heard his breathing hitch as he bucked once more. Potter had the gall to raise a brow. "I. Want you. Inside me. Now." Each word was an effort as he bit through his impatience, clawing at Potter's skin where he could.

They were perfectly aligned; perfectly in tune as Potter slipped into him. Draco wrapped his legs around him and pulled him ever closer, digging his heels into his back. Harry's mouth sought Draco's once more in a searing kiss as they thrust against one another. It started as a slow rock, Harry too aware and careful of Draco's bruises as he flinched.

There was no time to think, all they had was this; all they had was them. One body; one soul. They were forging the alliance long since abandoned after their first chance meeting in Madam Malkin's all those years ago. They were sharing something far greater than friendship. If they had fathomed what they would be to one another as young boys, they would have likely been astounded.

Draco let out a hiss of pain as Harry tugged a little too hard at something still a little in need of fixing. He nearly pulled out of him completely at the startled cry but it was too late. Draco came fast and hard, biting firmly into his lover's shoulder to shudder back the yelp in his throat.

And Harry wasn't through with him. These hands- these hands created. They brought life where there had been death and destruction. They had brought the light into Malfoy's eyes right then and there. They kneaded blindly at his spine as he thrust against one another.

He was blazing with the gasping sighs that escaped that mouth that attacked him, at his ear. That repeated his name, rolling off Draco's tongue as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if they had been doing this all along. They were meant to be here now, in this moment.

Draco moved with him, matching his every gesture. This was no competition, although perhaps ten years ago, it may very well have been. This wasn't to hurt or prove the better or who was right. This was fulfilling destiny. And as Malfoy's hands slithered up into his hair and tugged, he could feel it. He could feel it so completely, he emptied himself with Draco's name on his lips, a burst of a call to whatever gods were out there to be kind and let him keep this moment; this man for as long as he needed him.

Draco's legs relaxed about his waist, slipping low, his feet grazing the back of Harry's thighs as the two of them descended from orgasm. His breathing remained heavy and his fingers ran through those dark locks, slicked with sweat in time to the rise and fall of his chest.

Harry released a long breath, his heart pounding just as hard. "Draco," he barely managed as he kissed him once more, open mouthed and too exhausted to do little else. He could feel him smirk tiredly against him, a tongue darting out to meet his.

"Draco…" he repeated, unsure if he was merely saying it because he liked the way it sounded there on his lips, hot against Draco's mouth. But Draco liked it just as well and devoured him once more. Harry broke away, panting. "Say my name," he whispered, emerald eyes greeting opal.

Draco blinked. "Potter," he breathed without any second thought.

Harry reached out to tug at those fair locks, dampened and dark with sweat. "Say my name," he repeated, unsatisified. He'd heard Draco say it before. He'd said it and he wanted to hear him say it again. He began to pull his flaccid prick out from within him when a Draco let out a little protesting whimper.

"Harry," he panted and it was enough to make him hard once more. Harry thrust back into him, cradling the crown of Draco's head as he did so in reward. "Harry," he repeated over and over, each time awarded with a deeper, faster thrust until he could contain himself no more. No self control, no judgment, just this. Just them.

He didn't realize when the tears had started to fall, lacing like morning dew across his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he breathed and he wasn't sure for what he was apologizing. Harry froze mid thrust and stared. His hand at the back of his head retreated so that he might wipe away his salty tears from one cheek while his lips tenderly did away with the others.

"It doesn't matter," Harry murmured with a small smile playing at his lips. His breathing was erratic as he kissed him long and hard, their second round of sex long forgotten. Draco could feel every inch of him as he moved inside him and it made him squirm. "It's done. There's no going back. If I wanted you back then, I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner."

Draco wanted to admit that it wasn't that. He wanted to come clean right now, now that he had done his job and successfully bedded Potter. But he couldn't. Because he knew that if Potter found out that it was he who dispatched the botched Wolfsbane Potions that he would lose him. That they would go back to their mutual hatred and this night- this one night would be all for naught. And this, right here, right now, meant the world to him.

He could fix it. In fact, he could fix it in a heartbeat. The only reason why he hadn't was because he hadn't yet tamed Potter as his own. Now that he had… he could knock on some doors at Knockturn Alley and pay some of the wolf packs a visit. He had contacts. He knew who would sell and who wouldn't. Who was just asking for a rebellion and who was this close to starting it all.

He leaned forward to kiss him instead, keeping his secret locked tight, thankful that Severus had dropped a hint long ago that Potter was a poor Occlumens. He could put an end to all of this and still have his cake and eat it too.


	7. Let's Celebrate the Past

**A/N: Below, you will find I took some creative licence on the gaps in Draco's plot in DH. Any reference to Draco's whereabouts in Deathly Hallows is disregarded to fit with the story. You know the drill. And I hope all the H/D action in the last chapter was enough to tide you over for a wee little while, because we'll take a bit of a break from that, I think cuz they need to recuperate and catch their breath. ;)**

** And to hotflower901, why yes, Draco _is_ playing with fire. Is there ever a moment when he's not? And what could possibly bring Harry and Draco closer than a bit of danger/peril? ;)**

Draco didn't know what he had expected upon waking up in Potter's bed but he couldn't help the disappointment that roiled through him when he reached out to find an empty mattress. Potter's imprint was still warm. He'd gotten up not that long ago. Draco had never slept that soundly, if Potter's sneaking off without him noticing was any indication.

This was good. Him and Potter. It was good. Potter could help. He would help him far more effectively than Astoria would. Not that he was ungrateful for Astoria and everything she had done for him. After all, she allowed him the ability to live under the same roof as their son. Honestly, Draco had thought it ridiculous that his father had overlooked the small issue of his monthly changes when it came to bringing up an heir. It was only dumb luck that they conceived Scorpius so soon after the wedding, otherwise Draco would have found it difficult to try without the threat of his transformations looming over his and Astoria's heads. He may not have liked her very much, but he sure as hell didn't want to find her murdered in his bed the next morning either. Particularly when at the time, she was his only option for him achieving an heir in the first place.

But Potter was different. Harry was different. He actually wanted him to stick around. And that would mean seeing him through the full moon. Just as he had the previous night. He was glad that at least they had another thirty days before transformation struck again. They had time to develop a relationship- a new one. A different one from the usual spats and beatings and duels. They were above that now. They could behave like civilized human beings. And if ever their polar views got too extreme, there was always angry sex.

The slightest wolfish part of him wanted to provoke Potter into a frenzy just so that they could have that. But no. Everyone knew pissing off a werewolf was the last thing you wanted to do, even if he was under the influence of Wolfsbane Potion. He could potentially tear Harry to shreds. And where would he be then? Swept back into Astoria's arms. If they didn't send him off to be Kissed by the dementors first…

Wizarding society didn't take kindly to werewolves. They were just beginning to be accepted in public. They were given jobs out in the open for the first time in history. It was law that you had to register as a werewolf upon applying, but the choice process was supposedly made as unbiased as possible. Draco didn't know how true that was as he was one of the only werewolves he knew who had a high ranking job in the Ministry. Then again, his father's use of threat to use what Draco was against the Ministry had played a major part, but still…

He'd eventually found himself at one of the Werewolves Anonymous groups. Very early on, in fact. He had barely survived Greyback's attack, let alone his first transformation. He didn't like what he had become. He was sickened by himself. He hated what the beast crawling inside his skin forced him to do against his will. He had no control over himself. Not even in his dominant human form. And on several occasions had he contemplated taking that fatal leap off the astronomy tower.

He was shocked that his parents would even think to send him back to Hogwarts in his condition. Of course, the way his father's mind worked, he probably thought he could dispatch a few muggle born students while Draco was living in the castle. He could hardly even show his face there, after his humiliated attempt at Dumbledore's murder.

And of course, with Potter inexplicably absent from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall that year, what else did he really have left to live for?

So he did the only thing he knew how to do: he ran. The first Hogsmeade weekend that approached, he took without question. The town wasn't as safe as it used to be, what with Death Eaters patrolling the streets. Greyback himself was out there at that very moment, keeping an eye out for succulent little children straying from their mothers… The consent forms had gotten far more complex what with the stirrings of a war going on. It addressed every detail of danger the children could be put in if left to their own devices. Very few parents even agreed to sign the forms, knowing the danger they could be putting their children in. But the Death Eaters didn't give it any second thoughts. If they could stand up against their fellow followers of the Dark Lord, so could their offspring.

It was all ridiculous in Draco's opinion. It was mostly down to the fact that they hadn't yet applied a permanent head master since Dumbledore's demise that they hadn't cancelled Hogsmeade trips altogether. Draco didn't see the point anyway- there was hardly anything left down there as it was. Just charred remains. And the bloody Weasley Wizard Wheezies that was still somehow going strong despite all odds.

That was how he found himself huddled up in the cold, dank, dark sanctuary of the Shrieking Shack, a fitting place for a werewolf, given its history. He was surprised that the whispered stories and myths about the abandoned house seemed to have kept even the Death Eaters at bay.

It was difficult to get his hands on Wolfsbane, being just barely legal and all alone. He took to his transformations willingly enough. He knew not to fight it, lest he hurt himself. And he kept himself locked up, below.

Until Severus Snape found him starved, shivering and half driven mad with the exertion of the changes on his body.

That was where his expertise in brewing Wolfsbane Potion came from. And… ironically enough, it had been Severus who tipped him off to seek the help group. There, in the basement of The Hogshead, he was reintroduced to Remus Lupin and his cousin Nymphadora Tonks, who took him in against their judgment. No questions asked. Funny really, given that the newly married couple would soon be bringing a child into the world and here, they would be placing it right into the lap of a murderous dog.

But they had had faith in him. He had mastered the delicate art of brewing the potion that would keep the wolf in him at bay. And he had learned from Lupin how to suppress the creature within.

Harry would surely be pleased that he and Lupin had been in speaking terms before his defeat at the battle of Hogwarts back perhaps fifteen years ago. He'd be pleased to know that Lupin had been a kind and gentle man until the very end. That his heart truly did lie in just the right place. And he had taught him so much. He had taught him to be both a better man and a better wolf.

When Draco's thoughts wavered in his plans, he thought of that. He thought of what he would tell Potter in the stead of his unspeakable scheme. The scheme that would be done away with. By the end of the week. He could count on it.

**As always, Read&Review. It will not only make me happy, but it will make you happy too because you will get more chapters! which I'm hoping that's a yay cuz I think it's a yay!**


	8. Let's Keep It to Ourselves

**A/N: I'm trying to get as much out there to you guys before my exams set in and I get swamped. Hoorah for quick updates! But I think what I have here is a complicated storyline that will most likely head in the direction of even more complicated as we go along which means that it'll take quite a few more chapters to wrap up. (I'm just getting started here, I'll have you know. x)) So, bear with me if I get busy and don't update in the next few weeks. (Although reviewing might motivate me to write through my exams... ;) )**

Draco was still sore when he'd finally rolled out of Potter's bed. Potter would likely shove him back under the covers with a mug of tea or something if he found him up. But strangely, he wasn't in the house at all.

Potter's flat was an unusual place, filled with peculiar muggle contraptions. There was a big silver box that hummed in the kitchen. Potter had stuck a note to it for Draco to find. Obviously he expected Draco to get up out of bed then. He had gone to work and would be home later tonight. How utterly domestic of him. One single night together and already Potter was treating him like some sort of wife. It was with delighted curiosity that he discovered when he pulled on the handle of the metal box that food appeared on the other side.

He never ate well in the wake of a full moon. The stress just about killed him. Even after twenty years of this shit. He did indeed have full control of the wolf now, but it never stopped the anxiety of not knowing whether you were going to kill someone that night. The Wolfsbane Potion wasn't fool proof. But it was Draco's mission to get it there. After all, once he finally found the one ingredient that would tame the beast completely, the scandal of the botched potion production would come to an end. And he would be the hero.

There was an odd ringing that filled the whole flat in an obnoxious sort of way. Draco scowled. It wouldn't stop. He traced the sound to some sort of hand held muggle device, placed in a cradle plugged into the wall by what he vaguely understood to be a plug. He didn't know what he was supposed to do with it, so he just stared at it and hoped it would stop. Eventually it did, but the outcome made Draco jump. Potter's voice. Potter's voice leapt out of nowhere. Like an invisible patronis.

"You've reached Harry Potter. I'm sorry I can't come to the phone right now but please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Draco's breathing hitched. Potter's voice came out of that machine. The machine sitting by the phone. It was hardly bigger than a wand box, with red flashing numbers on its face. A drawn out beep followed and there was Potter's voice again.

"Draco," it said in a businesslike manner, quick and to the point but he could still detect affection underneath it all. Sentimental bastard. "I know you have an aversion to muggle things, but I hope you can make yourself comfortable in my home. I promise you, they won't bite. You might even find some of it entertaining. I'm working on the Wolfsbane case today. I want you to stay safe and hidden. The Ministry officials don't know I smuggled you out last night and they'll be looking out for you. Don't do anything rash. If you must go out, use a glamour or something. And please, do any research you can to help the case along, will you? You still need to keep up your part of the bargain. We had a deal. Now that I know what you are, we can use it to our advantage. Just… think about it."

Draco rolled his eyes, but Potter wasn't done. His tone dropped down to a husky growl. "I expect to see you tonight. In my bed. Right where I left you. The less clothes the better." Draco's heart hammered away in his chest at Potter's voice alone but the words pushed him over the edge, blood pooling low in his groin. Damn him for making him wait. "And do eat something, will you?"

As hard as he was, Potter was right. He had to get out there and test the waters. He had to talk to a few merchants. A few werewolves. Take a good look at the Ministry documents concerning the case again. Perhaps he could even conveniently run into Potter while he was at it. He'd like that: running into Potter. Maybe give him a good hard snogging in anticipation for tonight.

But first thing's first. He needed a hot shower and the company of his right hand.

~.~.~.~.~

"We had a werewolf escape last night," Harry was addressed to which he tried to look surprised at this news. "We have yet to examine the Wolfsbane in his blood sample. As of now, we have no idea how dangerous this dog can be."

Harry's expression hardened. "He can't be dangerous until next full moon. The Wolfsbane will last him at least another week before it wears off. Do cross check it for hostile ingredients though. He's as much a danger to himself as he is to others."

Really, in all of this, Harry was curious to see what Draco had done to that potion he took. He wouldn't have willingly taken a tampered potion. Like Draco had said he knew a tampered potion when he saw one. Which led Harry to believe that Draco had brewed that particular potion. Whatever extra elements were in it would answer his one burning question- what was Draco Malfoy doing to himself?

He was an intelligent man, he could grant him that. And he trusted him not to do anything outrageously stupid. And as loathe as he was to admit it, he was acting rather suspect. That wasn't to say that he was suspicious of his blond paramour. In fact, there was so much of him that he just flat out admired. Rather blindly, in fact. As if he would walk to the ends of the Earth just to see Malfoy's face. Their time together last night solidified something within him; confirmed everything he'd suspected of himself.

That he was in love with him.

That much was clear when he found himself far from angry at Malfoy for keeping his true form to himself. Not even a little bit. He hardly expected Draco to open up and tell him his every secret as they lay spent between rustled bed sheets. But he knew there was a clear change between them. Things were different now. They were two very different people meaning one very different thing to one another than they had before. Or perhaps it never had changed. Maybe that was the one thing that hadn't changed- the way they'd felt.

They had crossed boundaries last night. Boundaries Harry didn't even know they were capable of crossing. They had touched where they had not touched before. They had peeled away clothes; peeled away every single heavy expectation the wizarding world had of them; peeled away their hatred. Until all that was left was skin and bone. Beneath those bed sheets, they had lain themselves out for each other to see, like nude sculptures in a museum. Leaving no secrets.

But there _were_ secrets. That was the problem. They had to bridge those gaps. And Harry was more than willing to take the time to do it. The only question was, was Draco willing?

~.~.~.~.~

Since the death of Remus Lupin, the werewolf help groups were beginning to take a rather sardonic turn. They still supported one another, as help group should. But they were becoming restless. They were tired of being treated as the minority; as less than human. They felt their voices weren't being heard. That no one in the wizarding world would listen. And living quietly in the muggle world would just be a disaster. A lot of werewolves abandoned the group in favor of the darker wolf packs. The ones who were spurned to action; who wanted to get things done themselves. If the Ministry was unwilling to take their case, then they'd have to take it up themselves. And peaceful protest was hardly in a werewolf's repitoire.

They blamed the tampered Wolfsbane Potions on the Ministry. They had a theory that the officials had done it deliberately to prove that even under the influence of the calming draught they were still dangerous. They felt violated. They felt exposed. They felt cheated. They felt that changes needed to be made. And soon. They had to set the records straight.

Draco knew the truth. He knew that there was some gambit of fact in their theorizing. After all, he_ did_ work for the Ministry. And now that it was out there that that was where the werewolves' suspicions lay, he could easily turn this around on their wizarding government. For he felt the strains of oppression too. The question was, whether he should choose to join them.


	9. Let's Say Nothing's Changed

**A/N: So... I'm checking out my hits and i've noticed that Duality hasn't gained nearly as many hits as Liberation since its publication on the site and I hope that's cuz people have heeded my advice and decided to read Liberation first! So if you have, then yay! Have a cookie! And review. I'd love to know how this stands up compared to its sister tale... (and if anyone has any ideas for any kind of alternative situations you'd like to see H/D in for later installments, do let me know cuz I'm game for virtually anything so long as it's not too disturbing. ^^) And again... review review review.**

**Smut warning ahead...**

Harry's mind was solely on the Wolfsbane case. He hoped against all else that Draco had heeded his words and gone out and done something to contribute. Because Merlin knew Harry was tired of doing everything himself. It seemed as though the only thing Draco was willing to help him with was his sex life. Which, although it was fortuitous and just about everything he'd never admit to ever wanting and well… sofuckinghot he could hardly stand it, seemed a little odd given the circumstances. They were partners. That was all. They were meant to help each other. Sleeping together was a bonus. Not exclusive.

He'd give Draco the benefit of the doubt. After all, he knew all his muggle appliances would drive him out as soon as he found them. If he knew a thing or two about Draco Malfoy, it was that muggle things still made his skin crawl. At least it would motivate him to get out of Harry's flat. He just hoped once he was out, he was out there doing something useful.

He stopped in front of his flat in order to peer up into his window, in the small chance he might end up catching a glimpse of Malfoy, waiting for him. The thought sent a chill up and down his spine and he walked the awaiting steps to the front entrance.

If anything else, he might release the tension from his shoulders… Today could not have gone on longer. The only respite he had was the reminder that Draco was home waiting for him- or so he had convinced himself. He had this naïve idea in his head that Draco would stay. He didn't know why he believed it- he and his former nemesis hadn't seen each other for ten years and even when they were seeing each other on a regular basis, they were far from_ trusting _one another. And Harry really shouldn't kid himself but Draco had an awful habit of turning tail and running, if he did recall.

So he crossed his fingers in hope that he might find Draco on the other side of that door once he'd climbed every last stair to get to the fourth floor to his home. What he met was entirely unexpected.

He was barely through the door when a fist grabbed a handful of his robe sleeve and tugged. With a startled yelp, Harry drew his wand and blasted a clean _Stupefy _at his attacker. They released him, flying backwards into the coffee table in the middle of Harry's living room.

"_Fuck_," Draco swore, pressing a palm to his now aching temple as he lay crumpled on the floor. "Throw me a fucking bone, here Potter. I was just excited to see you was all."

Harry blinked. _Oh_. "Sorry. Bad habit," he amended, approaching his unsuspected victim and kneeling into a crouch to better assess the damage. Nothing seemed to be broken. Not much the same could be said about his splintered coffee table, glass strewn about the floor. He murmured a quick _Repairo _and all was right with the world again.

Only Malfoy was scowling at him again.

All was _too_ right with the world…

"I… I missed you," he murmured sheepishly, reaching up to muss his already disheveled tresses.

Malfoy sniffed, shoving his nose up in the air in a haughty, dignified manner. "Can't even go a few measly hours on your own, can you, Potter? If I were the Weaslette, I'd divorce you too, knowing how _needy_ you are. We're _not _an item."

"We're _not_?" Harry spluttered, confounded at this rejected that seemed to catch and tie his stomach into knots. "But… last night…"

"Last night was no indication that I have any interest in being your little boyfriend," Malfoy scoffed, tearing absently at the carpeting between his fingers. He raised a delicate brow for the right effect.

Harry's eyes shone with disappointment. "What if I do?" he breathed, far too close for Draco to even attempt to resist.

"I think the wizarding world might implode," he replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand. What he was truly interested in keeping that mouth silenced for a good few minutes. He was in fair need of some tongue on tongue contact. Fortunately enough, Harry was quick to oblige.

"Two faced," Harry grinned in relieve as he pulled away from their heated kiss, arms tightly woven around Draco's slim frame, hands falling conveniently to his backside where he couldn't resist but to give a generous squeeze. Draco didn't have the capacity to comprehend the jibe. So Harry merely kissed him again and went on. "You_ say_ you hate me, Draco… You've said it all your life. But now I know. Now I know it was all just empty words."

"What would you like me to say?" Draco inquired seriously, their eyes meeting. He held Harry's gaze for a long moment, in search for answers Harry may not be willing to give verbally.

"Nothing at all," he breathed in response, capturing Draco's lips once more. There was no explaining the transformation their relationship had taken. None of this should make sense. And most of the time, it didn't. With the bickering and the constant contradictions and Malfoy's biting retorts… Yet here he was, in Harry's arms. Consenting to his touch. Leaning into it. Reciprocating it. Force for force. Touch for touch. Kiss for kiss. And this eternal tug of war they had been playing was suddenly not out of spite. It was the tug of clothes; the pull of cotton, sensuous against skin as it was removed; the bite of teeth on flesh; that thrust that Harry and Draco had mutually been waiting for with bated breath all day.

Ten years ago, in this situation, Malfoy might have punched him in the face and left, appalled. But now… oh, now there was that telling desperation whenever they touched. A simple hand to the small of the back; a brush of hair tucked away to better reveal eyes that were the windows into his soul. They never were much for talk. Talk always led to a quarrel. And quarrel always led to fist fights and fist fights always led to pain. It was all trouble and they were both better off without saying a word.

Malfoy could be such a git anyway. Every time he opened his mouth…

But the gasp that tore from Draco's lips just then as Harry hit something deep inside him was magic. The accompanying arch of his back, up off the bed (which they had allocated to in the haze of desire) and the encircling of arms about Harry's neck left him nothing but wanting- _needing_ this man he had formerly hated with a passion he had finally set loose.

"I…" Draco tried to steady his breathing enough to express coherent thoughts. He was shaking with the anticipation and exertion. "_Merlin_… went to… Werewolves… Anonymous… today," he managed to groan out in as casual a way as he could as he built toward his climax.

Harry kissed him with a rough hiss, thrusting hard. He didn't particularly care _what_ Draco said, but at the moment, his voice alone would be enough to make him come if they weren't careful. And a part of Harry wanted this to last. Because he wasn't sure when Draco was going to snap out of his lusty phase and be done with him. "Uh…" was his distracted reply as he concentrated on the matter at hand, which to him, was getting even closer to Draco than he already was.

"They want…" Draco threw his head back which Harry gladly took as an opportunity to lavish the smooth alabaster pale neck with his tongue. Draco's eyes rolled. "Rebellion," he managed hastily, barely coherent.

"Rebellion," Harry repeated, liking the way the borrowed word felt on his lips. Just because Draco had said it. At that very moment, it bore no meaning. It was just that voice, manipulating syllables. And _god_- was it sexy.

"Yes… Harry…" Draco reached up to tangle his fingers through jet black locks and pulled just as his partner bit down on his shoulder once more with his final trust and they were emptying themselves almost in perfect unison.

They lay tangled and spent for a while after, merely catching their breath. They took their time. Harry had no hurry in parting his cheek from the rise and fall of Draco's chest.

"You weren't listening to a single world I said, were you, Potter?" he drawled vacantly, fingers repeatedly caressing that stubborn head of hair.

Harry blinked. "You said something?" he inquired, trying to back track to what Draco might have said to him before their preferred bedroom activities.

Draco sighed in impatience, rolling his eyes. "Werewolf rebellion, Potter. They want it. And as a regularly attending member of Werewolves Anonymous, I can keep close tabs on their intentions. We could shut it down or…"

"You go to group therapy?" Harry interrupted incredulously, disbelieving that Draco Malfoy- _the_ Draco Malfoy sought help for his problems.

Malfoy rolled his eyes again. "I do_ know_ how to swallow my pride on occasion like the rest of you sots. Don't act so surprised."

At that moment, it was clear that Harry had gone and said something offensive because Draco sat up and made to push him off. He reached down to grab his shirt that lay in an undignified pile on the floor by the bed. He huffed.

Harry's hand darted out to claim Draco's forearm and pulled him back. "Don't," was his monosyllabic plea. He released a breath. His idyllic fantasies of Draco always left him forgetting how easily he could set him off in real life. He wanted this rectified. He wanted to chip away at the fortress Draco had built for himself and his mind. And perhaps even his heart. He needed to get through to him that he wasn't here to threaten him. He wasn't here to hurt him. That was all in their past. "Draco…" he tried, grateful when the blond turned to meet his gaze, however reluctantly. "I'm glad. I'm glad you're getting the help you need."

"I'm not a mental case!" Draco blurted stubbornly, still obviously ruffled at Harry's backhanded insult. "What I have- what this is- what _I am_, is not a disease. I can't be cured. Only subdued. And that's what we do. In WWA. We help each other to learn how to subdue the wolf inside us when it's necessary.

"The wolf's not a monster. It's a gift. It's power. It's strength. It's in all of us whether we like it or not. It's in me and it's in you. And it just needs to be harnessed."


	10. Let's Not Fight

**A/N: I don't know about you, but I'm feeling some serious frustration with Draco right about now... He_ is _being rather childish. (A couple A Very Potter Musical quotes spring to mind. If any of you know what I mean... xP) I thoroughly do not blame you if you really dislike Duality's Draco. It's about time someone slaps him to his senses. ;) I'm prepping him for redemption at some point. And thank you guys, for all the hits. :):):) Now if only those reviews weren't so elusive?**

Unsurprisingly, Malfoy was still miffed the following morning. Honestly, when he'd enthusiastically suggested they have sex last night, he hadn't expected him to revert back to the ever- agitated, easily insulted, quick tempered Malfoy he knew from Hogwarts. He thought they'd gotten past that. That things were different now. They had taken such a huge step forward in their relationship and now it was as if they'd taken ten steps back with a single word.

Why did Malfoy have to be so difficult? He thought he _wanted_ this! He thought he wanted to be with him! So why in Merlin's name had he retracted into the mind of that moody sixteen year old boy? Quite frankly, Harry didn't know why Malfoy was still pissed at him for such a petty thing. Harry _had _apologized- to the best of his abilities when he had to do so to Draco's face; which was no easy feat.

He was shocked to find that Draco took pride in his condition. He _liked_ the power he derived from the wolf inside him. He _liked_ the mindless destruction that came with running through the woods and attacking innocent people. Clearly, Harry hadn't considered many of the potential variables of any of this when he'd decided to take Malfoy in. He'd anticipated he was to be taking care of a victim, not some power hungry_ demon_.

Maybe some things _didn't_ change.

Draco refused to share a bed with him and had the gall to kick Harry out of his own room. Here Harry was, being selfless, offering Draco sanctuary, giving and giving and giving and what did he get in return? Snide remarks, fiery rows and not a lot whole lot else. Besides the sex. And Harry wasn't even sure _that_ was worth it any more as he lay there on his second hand futon in his living room. He didn't know how the ferret had managed to convince him out of his own bed. But he didn't like it. Not one bit.

It had been two days. But the weight of the tension between them felt like two hundred. He rolled over with a huff, trying to find a comfortable position without the bedsprings digging into his side.

At least he was _doing_ something. Gathering information. Spying. He intended on joining this so called rebellion. Harry thought it too dangerous. And he voiced this opinion. And Malfoy shot it down so fast, it made Harry wonder why he bothered.

He wasn't planning on doing anything, per say. Harry didn't believe that for a second. If Malfoy was so set on going his own way, then that was what he was going to get. And if Harry wanted to give his advice, he could go right ahead. But it was unlikely to go heeded.

_Fucking Slytherin_.

~.~.~.~.~

He didn't know why he had to be so stupid. He really didn't. In Draco's own defense, he was afraid of letting Potter know how he truly felt. If he were to know… if he _knew_… It would leave Draco vulnerable. And that was something he wasn't ready to let Potter see yet. That day in the bathroom in sixth year was bad enough. Never again. Never again would he let Potter see him cry. Or lower his wand. Or give in.

When he'd plotted seducing Potter, he hadn't anticipated the intimacy. The seduction itself was a distant dream he'd toyed with at the latest nights when Astoria insisted on sleeping in his bed and he just couldn't do with those feminine hands or those wide feminine hips or those plump feminine breasts. So when he found Harry Potter caught in his snare so quickly, he panicked. And went right back to his school days when all he knew at first sight of Potter was to sneer and throw biting comments at him or tease.

He'd thought perhaps they'd grown past that. That now the snide comments and the sneers were empty. That they were good natured. But Potter was still irked like he was ten years ago. Couldn't he understand for a single second that Draco meant nothing by it?

It was chronic, whatever was making him act this way. It was like the wolf inside him, crawling beneath his skin, fighting to be unleashed at the least opportune moments. Werewolves _were_ known to be impulsive. He thought he'd learned to control that aspect. But Potter brought out the worst in him.

Damn him.

He preferred not to talk about it when Potter asked the following morning. He'd apologized in his gentlemanly way. And that was Draco's cue to accept it and move on. Forgive and forget. They shared a home and they shared a bed, after all. Draco wished he could get a grip. But it was just the way that Potter looked at him- with that unconditional admiration as if it had been this way the whole time. As if _this_ was love. And all those _words._ Potter had spoken more words to him in the past two days than he had in the six years they'd spent in Hogwarts together.

It was enough to drive Draco over the edge. _No one_ looked at him like that. _No one_ said those things to him. And he didn't know how to act. Being with Pansy… This _was nothing_ like being with Pansy. Pansy admired and petted and fussed with him in such a way a little girl might tend to a favourite doll. And then Astoria… Astoria had the passion that rivaled Potter's- that fierce protectiveness about her, but her eyes didn't smolder like Potter's did in such a way that made him feel utterly naked. As if he could see right through him and into him and oh _god_! What had he gotten himself into?

Why couldn't he use those words that Potter was so fond of using? Why couldn't he just express how he felt? If he wanted mistaken, he had gone into this wanting Potter to touch him. Wanting Potter to kiss him. Wanting Potter to come gasping his name over and over again, night after night. He had gone into this wanting everything that Potter had offered him. And he couldn't even manage a simple thank you when it mattered.

He vowed to do better. He would show Potter. He would prove to him that he was a worthy lover, partner and companion. He would prove to him that he wasn't wasting his time.

In the meanwhile, he had to go back to the Manor. For various things. Like announcing to Astoria that he no longer needed her assistance. And seeing his son for possibly the last time in a long while. There was no knowing how obliging Astoria was going to be in this new arrangement of his. Their relationship was complicated at best. The lack of chemistry between them was palpable from the very beginning of their marriage. They weren't compatible in the slightest. Draco always liked to test the waters before diving into a relationship as a rule of thumb. Sex before above all else had to be worth all the other trite character flaws. He would have liked to have tested their dynamic before their wedding day, but given strict pure blood traditions, there was to be no physical relations until the consummation of their marriage. Of course.

Their parents were clearly uninterested in chemistry when finding the perfect pureblood match. They were solely interested in appearances and the money and property that went with it. Never mind the fact that Draco couldn't even make love to his own wife without thinking of Potter. Their marriage was a lie. As soon as Scorpius was conceived and Draco and Astoria had been assured that he would be brought to full term (there had been concerns about Draco's condition affecting to baby), they were unified only by their son and the roof over their head, and nothing more. They no longer slept in the same bed- although Astoria had an awful habit of sneaking in to comfort Draco on the worst nights leading up to and following the full moon.

Astoria had flat out refused to liquidate their marriage so long as they continued to live together. Bloody keeping up appearances. After all, they were still regularly seen together in public with their son. And until now, Astoria _had_ taken care of him. There was a part of Astoria that seemed to have an insipid idea that there was still a chance for them, despite his blatant lack of interest. He was merely grateful for her looking after him when he was at his most vulnerable. That was all.

But Draco _had _his heir and Potter _had _offered him protection and a roof over his head. And if he could reign in his bloody mood swings, maybe he'd be able to keep both Potter and his promises. Salazar knew Potter was a far better option than Astoria ever was. If only she would let him go without a fight. He had a feeling that wasn't going to be the case.

Besides, he had potions ingredients he needed to drag back to Potter's. Or at least to his lab at the Ministry. He had to find an antidote for the rogue Wolfsbane potions (which was actually something he _was _being paid for…) The effects were likely to wear off and those who knew for a fact that they had unknowingly ingested the potions should be smart enough to dump the rest of it and be done with it. But with his investigations, he wouldn't be too surprised if werewolves were taking it _willingly_ and keeping it for future batches. Some of them liked the idea of stirring up trouble without actually mutilating innocent bystanders to death. No doubt they'd try to sell their batches on the black market. Those were the types of wolves Potter was after. And that was what the technicians were looking for in the potion he had taken himself not three nights ago. They wouldn't find anything too sinister in it though. It was completely innocent. It was mostly why he had lost in that fight. Had he refrained from taking the potion, he would have sunk his teeth deep into the animal. But he had been too busy trying to impress Potter with his self control. Which he couldn't say was much of a bad thing.

After all, it had landed him in Potter's bed, had it not?

"Where in Salazar Slytherin's name have you been?" Astoria rounded on him as soon as he arrived inside the Manor via the floo network. She had been organizing some sort of social gathering by the fire when he'd made his presence known. "You know I've been worried sick about you- wandering off during a full moon in the wake of this… Wolfsbane crisis! Merlin, Draco, don't you know they're rounding people up?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Storia. For the last time, I'm on the case. I unfortunately work with these catchers. And yeah, before you start harping on about it, yeah, I did get caught. But look, I'm fine. Alright? All in one piece. Ta bloody da. They took my name and a blood sample. That was all."

Astoria crossed her arms over baby blue silk robes, raising a regal brow. "And they let you go? Just like that?" she inquired skeptically.

Draco shook his head, refusing to be caught off guard by his wife's habitual nagging. "Not exactly. Made a rather valiant escape. Turns out, I have close ties with one of the Aurors on the case. He was able to cut me loose."

"Oh really? And you just waltzed right out of there a free man, did you?" she replied spitefully, drumming her fingers against her arm. Some days, he swore his father hadn't found him a wife- but a substitute mother.

"Yeah. As a matter of fact, I did," Draco stated smugly. "I told you I'm working with Harry Potter, did I not?"

Astoria rolled her eyes right back at him. "Oh, the Wonder Boy again. Is this another one of your silly little fantasies? Because really, Draco. You're as bad as Scorpius.

Draco figured he must have really pissed Astoria off if she was being snippy with him like this. "He knows what I am. He's _seen_ me. And he's willing to protect me. He could have handed me right over to the Ministry as a lab rat. But he didn't. He got me out. And believe it or not, he's taking me in."

"And you'll be one of his most recent charity cases, will you not?" Astoria inquired flatly, still not fully believing her husband's unlikely words. If what you say is true and he really is offering you sanctuary, it's not going to last, Draco. I can look after you far better than he could. He will use you, Draco. Don't you see? It's time to let this silly fantasy of yours drop. Harry Potter will never be yours the way you've always wanted him to be." Her comments could have been laden with poison spite but Draco could hear the warning caution in her voice that merely worried for his safety. She was well aware of his infatuation and had no fear of vocally addressing her opinion on the absurdity of it all.

It may have only been two days into their civilized relationship under one roof, but Draco was bound and determined to keep Potter for as long as he possibly could. And so long as Potter was willing, he'd take him.

"Storia," he sighed gently, stepping forward to running an affectionate crooked finger along the silky sleeve of her robe. Time for a change in tactic. "You know what we have is dying out. You knew this. You knew this from the beginning. You know how I've wanted Potter. For how long. And now I have him. I deserve this happiness. Storia, you have to let me go."

Astoria fought the need to give in. She shook her head, refusing to meet his gaze. "Scorpius," she muttered, more of a statement than a question.

Draco nodded in understanding. "I had hoped we could come to some sort of compromise in regards to our son. A boy needs his father in his life. And there is no denying that I have been nothing but good to our Scorpius."

Astoria softened at this. "You have."

"Then if I file the divorce papers this week, you will consent to joint custody for our son?" he tried, hoping that perhaps it would be that simple and he could say hello to Scorpius, pick up his things and leave.

Apparently, it wasn't so. It never was with Astoria. She let out a long, drawn out sigh. "You're making a rash decision, Draco. You always do this. You jump to conclusions and come up with these silly elaborate plans and they all end the same. Whatever this is, it isn't real. You're going to end up hurt. And if it isn't by me, it'll be someone else. Stay. If not for me, then for your son."


	11. Let's Take Them Down

**A/N: Just a short little thing in prep for some serious action later on... Watch this space... and review like crazy!**

"Father," came a shocked little voice at the top of the spiral staircase before the two of them.

Draco blinked, glancing up toward his son. "Scorpius," he greeted not unpleasantly. There was a fear there, in his son's eyes that he regretted. Scorpius knew very well about where he may have been and what he may have been doing. He knew of his father's condition from the beginning and it both frightened and fascinated him.

"I'm alright," Draco murmured softly, waiting with open arms for his son to rush down the stairs with his usual undignified greeting. Scorpius' descent today was far more tense, taking one step at a time. There was hesitation there and his eyes rolled wildly between his parents. Astoria stepped toward him to reassure him. She snuck a pointed glance in Draco's direction, accusation evident there in her down-turned lip. She placed a protective hand to the small of her son's back, giving him a gentle push in his Draco's direction. He glanced back over his shoulder at her with a little shudder before accepting his father's embrace.

The days following the full moon were always the worst. Scorpius feared the wolf was still there, just under the surface and it might just come out to get him unexpectedly. Like a bad nightmare. It never did, of course. But he still feared. His parents had warned him of Fenrir Greyback- they had told him about how he'd changed his father and how he was out to get little children. A cautionary tale. Don't wander out into the darkness alone or Greyback will get you. And his father could get him too. He was one in the same.

Draco would find a way to subdue the wolf more permanently if it meant doing away with that look on his son's face. To have his own son fear him… He had promised himself he would never be like his father before him. He would be better with Scorpius. He wouldn't keep company with Death Eaters. He wouldn't subject his son to that company. But he felt it necessary to warn him of the dangers of the darker side of the wizarding world. Their society- there were still dangerous people out there. Draco's being a werewolf did little to protect his family from that. Which was why it might be wise to leave.

~.~.~.~.~

This was getting out of hand. Harry was often wary about going into dangerous missions like this. Going into a wolf den was no walk in the park. He couldn't just waltz in there and tranquilize them all and drag them out. He'd need a team. And the wolves weren't going to go down without a fight. In fact, Harry counted on one.

Fortunately enough, the full moon had passed, which meant transformation was less likely to occur. It still happened, on occasion. Some of the darker werewolves had learned to transform on the spot. No full moon needed. There was barely any human left in them. But it was these kinds of wolves Harry would be dealing with. And he really didn't like this plan at all.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I had business to attend to at home," Draco murmured as he swept self-importantly into the room. Besides the quickening of his heart at the sight of him, Harry scoffed. Leave it to Draco Malfoy to come late without any expectation of the consequence.

But he had to admit, they needed him here. They couldn't go in without him. He had the scent of a wolf on him that would get them in. The invisibility cloak would ensure that at least Harry could go in undetected.

He hoped the veritaserum in his pocket would be enough. He sincerely hoped he didn't have to drag anyone else back with them. Even though some of them probably deserved a good locking up. But that was what the truth serum was for. It wasn't going to be easy…

"You went home," Harry inquired flatly as they ventured out, wands at the ready.

Draco rolled his eyes. "What did you expect, Potter? You can't just ask me to move in and have me forever at the drop of a hat. I have a wife and a son who expect me to be there for them. And Astoria is less than impressed with my intentions, by the way. I figure she won't believe me unless you show up and kiss my arse right in front of her."

"Oh that's the _last _thing…" he growled in response and he sped ahead. Draco easily kept up with his long legs. "Look, I'm willing to go over there. To the Manor if you need me to. When we're done here… we can work out a proposition."

Draco glanced sideways at Harry for an extended moment, keeping his stride. "You really want me, don't you, Potter?"

Harry's eyes met his and he shivered at the look that was held there in his gaze. "This isn't the time or place to discuss this, Malfoy. But I do. Very much. And I'm willing to fight to get what I want if I need to."

Draco smirked, pleased. "Good. Because Astoria's not going to let me go without a fight."

"Well then," Harry stopped abruptly in front of a large stone door to what appeared to be an old muggle church. He made a bold move to take Draco's hand in his. He shifted so that they stood nose to nose. They stared at one another for an extended moment. Harry squeezed his hand and for a moment, Draco thought he might kiss him, right there, in public, with an Auror team not far behind. But he merely dropped his hand and straightened. "One fight at a time."

"Scared, Potter?"

"You wish."


	12. Let's Fight the Good Fight

**A/N: So I must be utterly insane continuing posts right in the middle of my finals... .' but oddly enough, it's when I'm studying that I feel most inspired. So. There we go. That and I was bursting to write some hot h/d passion which you'll find a snippet of at the end of this chap. :):):) And please, guys. Help a poor stressed girl out in her study blues and review. It would make my day and give you more chapters quicker. ;)**

"Well well well," came the chilling sneer of Fenrir Greyback as he revolved on the spot to acknowledge the newcomer's arrival. "Draco Malfoy. Looks like the protégée's come crawling back to his master."

Draco forced a smile, swallowing his fear at the lethal expression he was being met with. After years of stealing away children from deep in the shadows as unsuspecting mothers and fathers walked on, Fenrir Greyback had lost the ability to smile. Instead, the edges of his upturned lips made for a permanent leer. Draco suppressed a shudder. He derived some comfort out of knowing Potter was not far behind.

"Fenrir," Draco cleared his throat, trying to keep his shaking voice steady. "You're looking well. I trust the matters of your pack have been jovial."

That chilling attempt of a smile remained on Greyback's face at this comment. Draco tried not to flinch. "Indeed. _Jovial_. I'm certain you know all about this new brew of Wolfsbane going around, do you not?"

Draco took a step down in order to better integrate himself into the grizzly group. There must have been about a dozen of them- all in tattered clothes, disheveled hair and grubby faces. None seemed too bothered by their lack of hygiene. None of the darker ones ever did. They'd all embraced the wolf to the point of completely disregarding their fundamental human needs.

"I have," Draco confirmed warily, treading carefully in what he only hoped would be successfully carrying out his plan of not revealing too much. He could feel Potter close at his back. He feared his breathing might tip the pack off to his presence. It was only fortunate Draco couldn't pick up his scent. And if he couldn't smell Potter from a mere inch away, it was unlikely the others would suspect a thing… for now.

"It's fascinating, isn't it?" Fenrir sneered, offering Draco a seat at their table. Draco accepted the chair easily enough and sat, scooting himself closer to the table's wooden edge. The surface was adorned with multitudes of raw meat. They must have come back from a hunt- recently. Draco was only relieved there was no human flesh in amongst the carcasses of the wild. The smell of blood was pungent in the air. He had lost the comfort of having Potter at his back. He suspected he would have gotten a better angle in order to strike the leader of the pack if and when the time came for it. "A potion that allows for a werewolf to attack, but not injure a human being. I don't know whether to feel affronted or intrigued. After all, where's the fun in the hunt of you can't kill? Am I right, boys?"

He was met with an uproar of praise and raised fists as many slopped their mugs of mead on themselves and each other. Draco reached up to make certain his hair was still perfectly in place then brushed down his suit for any dust. He was possibly the cleanest werewolf out there and he knew it. He wouldn't spend anymore than a night with these cretins if he had his way. He just hoped that the wolves' tongues would be loose tonight. Perhaps if they were drunk enough, they'd even be easy to take in.

"But," Fenrir went on, a twinkle of malice in his dead cold eyes. "I have an idea that perhaps we can use this to our advantage. After all, if the Ministry dolts were lazy enough to let this slip," (and here he pulled a small royal blue vial from his torn pocket of his jacket), "what are the chances they'll make another mistake? You're a competent potion master as I do recall."

Draco blinked. "I-yes. It's my specialty…" he confirmed, hoping to Merlin they didn't _know_. If they knew and Fenrir announced it unwittingly in front of Potter… he'd be dead.

"Then you'll know how simple it is to slip a potentially hostile ingredient into such a potion," Fenrir went on in his scheming thought process. "The Ministry mass produces another batch, which the wizarding world is led to believe is benign and we'll have an uprising on our hands. We could slip in a little surprise for them all without them even knowing."

Draco's blood curdled at the very thought. The likelihood of the wizarding community trusting the Ministry for producing the Wolfsbane Potion for them again was very low. Skeptical werewolves were more likely to brew their before running off to buy a product without knowing what was in it. Too many people purchased potions these days without giving it any second thought as to the contents. They could be drinking troll piss for all they knew and it would be the solution to all their problems. This recent glitch would be a rude awakening for many.

Little had Draco known that in this supposedly engenius plot of his, he would potentially catalyze a full scale supernatural war. He'd been thinking along the lines of a rebellion- just to get their voices heard. But a war? A complete and utter indoctrination of all werewolves still trusting the Ministry for their Wolfsbane Potions? This… well this just couldn't go on.

But this was what Potter was here for. Right? He was here to shut this down before it got out of hand.

True to form, at that very moment Harry Potter cast off his invisibility cloak and shouted a curse in Fenrir Greyback's direction. Stunned by the lack of anticipation, the werewolf howled. He toppled, unable to defend himself.

Potter whirled, pointing his wand at each and every other werewolf at the table in turn. At one moment, Draco was shocked to find the point of his weapon unsheathed in his very direction. Nice touch, Potter. Nice touch indeed. He'd have to remember to congratulate him on that later on. With a bit of a snide comment about how he could have killed him of course.

And then the Aurors were upon them faster than anyone could say "ambush". And the first battle had begun. The wolves began to rise from their seats in a flurry as the team rounded on them. Some of them willed the canine out of themselves to swipe with sharpened claws or gauge with grisly teeth.

There was only one thing on Draco's mind. One thing and one thing only as he watched Potter sweep down upon Greyback and slip his little blue vial out of his grip and discretely into his cloak pocket. He watched as Potter fended off a wolf who attempted to attack him from behind- a simple but swift grip of the wrist, lightning fast and his attacker was flung against a far wall. But most of all, he watched- and never stopped watching as Potter rushed toward him and grabbed his arm. Albeit much too roughly, but enough to keep up appearances, even though the whole Auror back up team had known of Draco's involvement. It was enough to make Potter seem like their teamwork was begrudging. That teaming up with a werewolf on such a case was less than thrilling an opportunity.

That's right. Best not get too friendly with a Malfoy. Even if Draco had regained a competent reputation to the Malfoy family name with his work in the potions department at the Ministry. But if for whatever reason, this mission failed, he'd be back at square one and all of this would be undone. He counted on Potter to help him out here. And that was no hidden motive. It was just simple fact.

Potter led him out of the church hurriedly- much to the confusion of passing muggles. Of course, that confusion would pass within seconds and they'd go along their merry way. Stupid muggles. So easily manipulated by magical shields.

He smirked when Potter gave an extra squeeze of his arm and his gaze lingered on him for an extended moment. Time really stood still in that very moment- the heat of the moment where Potter threw the invisibility cloak over Draco's head and ducked under the filmy material himself. He grabbed at him with so much desperation, right there in the middle of the cobblestone street that it made Draco's breath catch in his throat.

"Potter," he growled, returning his gaze with an equal ferocity to the blaze in those emeralds that seemed to see only him. "This is hardly the time."

Potter's face came crashing down against his in all directions, like a bullet to the back of the head- blasting their bones to smithereens as they collided. Nose to nose. Breath to breath. Brow to Brow. The kiss was quick but it felt like days that they had stood there, locked in a tight embrace and devouring each other before Potter pulled away, resting his forehead vehemently against Draco's.

Draco let out a breath that slipped gracefully into through Potter's parted lips.

And from that breath cultivated two words:

"I promised."

With a final squeeze to his arm, Potter dashed off again, the invisibility cloak sliding like water off Draco's shoulders, back into the throes of a battle which would certainly not be his last.


	13. Let's Get Out Alive

**A/N: Just a baby chapter simply because I didn't have the heart to conclude what could potentially be a nail biting cliff hanger. And if anyone knows me and my writing, I love a good cliff hanger. ;) ;);)**

Draco's heart pounded up in his throat and he wished Potter would let him fight. He wished he had the power to fight. He wished he hadn't spent so much time suppressing the beast within. Then maybe- just maybe he could prove his worth. He could prove that it wasn't he who needed protection.

But this was Potter's job, was it not? Protecting people. Saint Potter, saviour of the whole wizarding world. Of course he refused to stop at Voldemort's defeat. It was innate. He _couldn't_ stop. Not if his life depended on it. Which, Draco supposed was on a regular basis when he wasn't filing paperwork in his office.

Draco wished he could be of more use to Potter. Aside from under the influence of the full moon, he was hardly a worthy fighter. Where he could, he fled before he could truly validate the situation. This human side of his- this human side was cowardly. In this fight or flight reflex, he chose flight where Potter chose fight every time. And there he was, down in that basement fighting.

Potter hadn't even given him the option this time around. The sentimental git didn't want him hurt. He should be grateful- and he _was _grateful but of course Potter's protectiveness over him was grating on his nerves. He had as much right to fight as Potter did. He had a perfectly capable wand and he knew how to use it. More than once, he considered apparating back down there. But he had no knowledge of what he'd be apparating into.

He rolled his eyes. He was even to frightened to find out. And he'd _dealt_ with these people before. And with Fenrir incapacitated… what was there to lose?

Potter's trust. They were on a thin line. Virtually anything could set either of them off and that anything might just be Draco's one way ticket back to the Malfoy Manor with Astoria. Not that he'd complain but it was Potter for Merlin's sake! Of course he'd choose him every time.

That was probably wrong. So very wrong on many different levels. Ten years. Ten years of marriage and a young son about to depart for Hogwarts and he still felt a stronger pull toward his childhood nemesis than his own family. He never had been happy with that arrangement, come to think of it. He'd never loved Astoria and Scorpius never quite felt wholly his. Might he even feel that a child not produced with love was just that- a child. And where he was proud of Scorpius and the man he would one day become; the white blond hair and silver eyes that made him biologically _his, _he was still a mystery to Draco.

It was foolish, really. But despite his upbringing, Draco had had this idea in his head that a family was made out of love. He could see in the way Potter had looked toward each and every one of his children in Diagon Alley that they were created out of love. And Draco envied that. Because Scorpius was just a product of upper class pure blood society. Draco had no choice. He didn't_ choose_ Astoria. He didn't _love _Astoria. And by connection, he didn't choose Scorpius. He didn't _choose _to be Scorpius' father.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes as he kneaded away this tension. They would have a lot to talk about when all of this was over and done with. He would have to reassess everything he'd ever known; everything he'd ever wanted.

He furrowed his brow when a figure came staggering out of the shadows of the church's interior before his very eyes. His hands began to shake as he practically catapulted himself off the bench on whence he sat, launching himself off with a push of his hands toward the figure, bent double.

"Harry!" he gasped, in a rush to catch him before he stumbled to the ground. Potter let out a low groan of pain as he fell forward against Draco's chest. His breathing was shallow. His brow was slicked with a cool sheen of sweat. Wrapping his arms around him, Draco tried to assess the damage. Potter was gripping his side where a great tear could be seen in his Auror robes.

"Let me see," Draco demanded urgently, trying to pry away Potter's hands. "Potter- Harry… let me see!" His voice softened as he reached for Potter's chin with his left hand while his right rested on his wrist. Nudging his face upward, he directed Potter's gaze to him. His eyes weren't focusing behind the flash of his crooked spectacles.

"I-I can't…" Harry's eyes crossed with the effort and his breathing came ragged. "Draco…"

Draco rearranged him so that he was cradled in his arms. He held his hand at the crown of his head as Harry went limp. Draco sucked in a breath. "Potter," he tried, shaking him. Merlin- this was so like him. Draco could feel himself quivering has his free hand mapped out the injuries. Potter's hands fell limp against his side and drooped against dead air. Draco rearranged the folds of his robe, pushing back the clean tear that he knew well as wolf's claws. He could feel the blood soaking the cloth of his robes, now seeping into the fabric of his flesh. He shuddered.

"No," he gasped, gaze transfixed on the gash that glared back at him. "No. _Potter_…" He couldn't breathe. He felt his legs give out as he held him, knees scraping cobblestone. "Don't you… don't you fucking…"

He had to get him away from here. He took a quick glance around to assess the ease of disapparating in the middle of a public place in Muggle London. He'd have to take a risk.


	14. Let's Take You Home

**A/N: I don't know why this took me so long to post because I wrote it at least a week ago and never quite finished it until now. I debated splitting this into two shorter chapters but the figured since I'd be posting them one after another, there wouldn't be much point in leaving another cliff hanger... Aside from that, I'll do the usual schpiel and beg for reviews. Blah blah blah, yes please . And warn for man on man lovin touchin squeezin. and possible fluff, depending on what you call fluff...**

Draco paced the floor of St. Mungo's, anxiously awaiting any news as to Potter's condition. There had been a lot of blood. So so much blood. He could still feel the thick fluid through the skin of his hands even after a strong Scorgify. He shuddered. Potter wasn't supposed to be like this. He was the Chosen One, the Saviour of the wizarding world. He wasn't supposed to fall down on a job; be utterly defeated in field work. He did this sort of thing all the time. He had defeated Voldemort for Merlin's sake! What in Salazar Slytherin's name was he doing potentially _dying_ doing something so asinine?

If there was anyone who should go into a potentially life threatening job, it would be Potter. Because he- he was indestructible. He wasn't supposed to die.

He didn't know what the healers were doing in there. What was worse was that no one was letting him in. Weasley was in there right now, watching over him. _He _should be the one looking after Potter. After all Potter did to get him out of there… to save his _life_… It only made sense that he should return the favour.

That and Draco _was_ fucking scared for him, whether he was willing to admit it or not. He tried to convince himself that none of this was his fault. But no matter how many ways he spun the scenario over in his head, it all came back to the Wolfsbane Potion and in the end, it was down to him. There was no escaping it. Of all the scenarios he had considered in constructing his plan, he had not anticipated this. Yes, he had imagined Potter coming to him for help on the case. Yes, he had imagined doing fieldwork alongside Potter. But no, he did not imagine the work getting the better of him. If anyone should be getting hurt in all of this, it should be him, not Potter. Not Harry.

He had no right to pull him out of that church. Because if he hadn't… would he still be here?

Draco should have convinced him to leave. Right then and there after that kiss. He could have taken him back to Potter's apartment, organized their notes and evidence and…

Well, by then, falling into bed with him would have been an inevitability.

But now… now everything was so questionable. Potter's health was questionable. The whole werewolf rebellion was questionable. The Ministry was questionable. The Wolfsbane Potion was questionable. _He _was questionable.

What in the bloody hell was he supposed to do now?

He needed to see Potter. If only he could just see Potter- a single glimpse and his doubts would be put to rest. He'd pull through. He was the Boy Who Lived, after all. He could live through anything. He'd live through this. Of course he would. Right?

Within the next minute, it seemed his prayers were answered as the doors to Potter's room swung open and out strode one very disheveled and poverty stricken Weasley, looking less than impressed to find the bane of his teenage existence still sitting there, waiting like a loyal dog.

He rolled his eyes. Draco sneered right back. "What's it to be then, Weasel? Just a flesh wound or are we going to have to arrange another funeral?" He tried to hold his own, leave no cracks in his cold, proud Malfoy mask he wore at all times. He couldn't help but flinch at the very idea of having to organize that sort of thing. Especially for Potter.

Ron Weasley scowled right back, taking a step toward him. He jabbed out a finger at him, standing a good foot taller than Draco. "Look, Malfoy. I don't know what the bloody hell you're driving at but this stupid childhood rivalry? It's over. It happened, the war changed us so now you need to grow up and out of this bloody spite you're still harboring for my best mate, alright? No one needs you here, leering like the spoiled brat we all know you are. Especially not Harry after everything he's done to save your life. And he's in there right now, just barely pulling through."

Draco blinked. _Just barely_… "I-I'm sorry?" he stuttered, unable to articulate any other words. But… Potter…

"You heard me, Malfoy," Weasley hissed, crossing his arms over his chest. "If I find out you laid a single finger on him…"

"I wouldn't," he breathed, much to the ordinarily vacant faced red head's shock. Draco didn't have it in him to fight. Not when Potter… He swallowed. "I don't have it in for Po- Harry, alright? I just… we work together now, so we have no choice but to get along. You can't blame me for worrying if Potter's absence means this mission goes pear shaped. I can't do this alone." He sighed, reaching up to run his fingers uncharacteristically through his hair. "I just… want to see him. Is that too much to ask?"

Weasley watched him warily for an extended moment, looking entirely unconvinced. After a long, hard scrutiny of Draco's face, he shrugged his reluctant consent. Draco's heart raced into a gallop at the implications and suddenly, he feared what he might be meeting on the other side of that door.

He swallowed his pride and with one last nod of gratitude in Weasley's direction, he turned on his heel and pushed open the door that had been keeping him from Harry Potter for the past few hours.

He had feared the worst. He had feared there would be even more blood than before. That Potter was completely and utterly torn apart beyond repair. That it was beyond anything magic could repair. That he was already gone between the time Weasley had left and Draco had entered.

It wasn't completely unfounded, therefore that he would instantaneously check for any sign of pulse. He didn't look dead and his chest continued its familiar rise and fall, even if it was uneven and far from a healthy pace. He was unconscious, splayed beneath stale white sheets, one hand's fingers holding them in a death grip. He was pale, but not deathly so. He was alive, to say the least, which made Draco's heart rate slow ever so slightly. His head was still reeling as he knelt by his bedside.

"Harry," he sighed, taking up the hand that gripped the sheets, coaxing it into his welcoming grasp. "I'm sorry this happened. This is… completely my fault. I've done some things that I'm not proud of. At least… I don't think I am. Not to say I would take them back because of course I'll always have an ulterior motive. Slytherin…" He reached up with his free hand to run his palm vertically down his face. Humiliating. He was trying to justify himself to a very unconscious Harry Potter, the bane of his existence until apparently now. "But… I want you to know, in case none of this works out, I did it for you. I'm just… trying so hard and none of this is happening the way I want it to. It's all… backward. _I'm _just backward. And I figure there isn't anyone else who would understand me more than you with your backwards, fucked up life. And I… don't know how you do it."

He gave Potter's hand a final squeeze before getting up to leave. He didn't want to stick around in case Potter woke up and then he'd have to immediately face up to what he had been doing. Even if the likelihood of Potter hearing his rambling apologetic speech was humiliatingly low. Besides… Weasley would be barreling in in due time to kick Draco out. He just knew it.

~.~.~.~.~

"Hey," was the first word out of Harry's mouth after long disuse. He was pleased upon awakening to find Draco hovering at his bedside, ringing his aristocratically pristine hands. He blinked, willing his vision to focus on that man, waiting up for him and his heart swelled just at the thought of it. He dosed back off before he could be given an answer.

~.~.~.~.~

Potter was drifting in and out of consciousness and to be honest, it was wearing on Draco's nerves. He spent his days pacing away in the waiting room, in Potter's room, following the length of his bed… He hadn't slept in days, nor had he returned home to Astoria. She'd most likely be furious, particularly now that she was privy to his intimate habits with Potter. He could have easily flooed her to let her know he was alright but Potter potentially wasn't. But that would only plaster a permanently victorious sneer upon that homely face of hers and he would never hear the end of it if it meant he would wind up back at Malfoy Manor with his wife and son for another twenty years…

Potter tossed and turned in his sleep sometimes. He talked too but most words were either disjointed or gibberish and Draco could hardly make heads nor tails of it. "Draco," was one of the only words he could distinctly make out in that drawn out way Potter had a habit of saying his name in a particularly amorous situation. It didn't help that he smacked his lips in his sleep as he said it then rolled over in pure silence as if it had been nothing at all.

So when "Draco," crossed Potter's lips for the fifth time that afternoon, Draco had assumed it was merely the usual sleep talk. But even he could detect the change in inflection as he said it. There was a crispness and clarity to the name, laiden there on his tongue that made Draco whirl on his heel to find himself face to face with Potter. Wide awake and beckoning he come hither.

~.~.~.~.~

The return to Potter's home was a quiet affair. Potter didn't waste words on Draco, despite how much Draco truly wished he would. Then again, he also knew how Potter would need to gather his strength. And oh… dear Merlin, he was beginning to sound like a clingy little housewife. He shuddered. At least he had the _option_ of taking Potter home with him. _Finally_. He didn't know what he would have done had Potter just given up…

In all honesty, what Draco wanted more than anything was to let his dreadful housewife instinct take over and throw himself at Potter in order to prove to him just _how_ worried he had been. He wanted Potter to know precisely how he felt for him. Because if this were to ever, ever happen again… he might not have the opportunity to breech the subject again.

St. Mungos (and hospitals in general) made Draco feel unclean. He hated the thought of all those wizarding diseases and curses and spilled potions lingering in the air. He didn't want to risk catching anything. It went without saying, therefore, that as soon as he was certain that Potter was settled and perfectly fine- _no you don't have to coddle him, for Merlin's sake_!- he divested himself of his clothes and slipped inconspicuously into the shower to rub off any excess grime.

One thing he always liked about this daily cleansing ritual was the opportunity to be left alone with his thoughts for once. He could think things over. As he rubbed shampoo through his now dripping, flaxen hair, he ran his mind over everything that had transpired in the past week. Fenrir had been successfully prevented from creating a further mess of the Wolfsbane situation. For now, at least. Azkaban hadn't stopped him before… And then Potter was alright, wasn't he? Albeit for a few terrifying days, he hadn't been all because his idiotic Gryffindor altruism had made that split second decision to get Draco out instead of continuing the fight.

Draco wondered rather seriously whether he had served as a distraction. Whether Potter would have fought better had he not been there for him to worry about. For he knew how Potter worried. How could he not? He was The Boy Who Took the Weight of Everyone's Problems on His Shoulders Even After Defeating He Who Must Not Be Named. Of course he was bound to save Draco before himself. Had he not made that very same decision in pulling him out of the Fiendfyre all those years ago?

Draco was grateful to him and his foolishness, to say the least. Often times, it saved lives. Namely, his own. But still, Potter had a long way to go before he was completely healed. And Draco, while he never was and never would be a very good nurse maid, would try his best to take good care of Potter until that wound was more or less gone. Plus, there was that little issue of how this particular wound he had gained would affect his demeanor. This was something he was going to have to discuss with Potter… after much observance of his behaviour before hand, of course. He didn't want to seem as though he was jumping to conclusions. And if there didn't seem like there was anything amiss (especially come full moon), there obviously wouldn't be anything to discuss, would there?

Draco feared he'd been attacked by one of the transformed wolves. And if this was the case, Potter was in deep trouble. When he had started all this, he had had no intention of getting Potter transformed. Sure, the thought had crossed his mind in a morbid fantasy of his in which he had been the one to transform him, yes. But this was far from something that he would act upon. Now that he thought on it and the concept became less terrifying, he could see Potter being turned as rather… well, advantageous. Draco would gain a partner who not only had the potential to love him and remain faithful to him, but one who fully understood everything he was going through, unlike Astoria who could only sympathize but never quite had that empathy that a fellow werewolf might have. Plus, with Potter as a fellow werewolf, he could easily sway him into joining the rebellion as soon as he realized quite how outcast the supernatural species was.

An ominous rustling from nearby jolted him out of his scheming as a particularly suntanned bare leg hitched around the shower curtain as the material was pulled an inch to the left. Draco could not but stare wide eyed as the rest of Potter followed, still rife with fresh scarring on the right side of his torso. His face was without spectacles as Potter blinked away at him, his emerald eyes gleaming brilliantly in such a way that made Draco's heart pound.

"I… wanted to thank you," Potter started sheepishly over the shower's spray. He took a tentative step toward him, so that he was directly under the mist. "Y'know, for being there for me. At St. Mungo's."

There was something painstakingly endearing about the lopsided smile that accompanied this admission of gratitude. A calloused hand reached up and pressed palm flat against the water slick plain of Draco's chest. That tentative smile grew into something akin to affection Draco had often times caught in various ways across Potter's face.

Draco sighed contentedly as that palm slid painstakingly slow up and down from rib to collarbone and back again. His dampened hair clung to his forehead, water droplets dripping down into his eyes and sluicing down over his temple, across his cheek and dribbling down his chin only to pool, cupped against his prominant collar bones. Potter's eyes followed this route on his face and he leaned ever closer.

"And… you had to do that _now_?" Draco half teased incredulously with a practiced raise of a silvery blond brow. He was duly rewarded by a quick peck on the lips which easily gave way to something more as Potter's tongue requested entrance into Draco's willing mouth. Draco hesitated before acquiescing, if only to prove that Potter wasn't going to have his way that easily.

When Potter finally released him it was to present him with a shrug. "Couldn't waste a perfectly good opportunity."

"Hmm…" Draco could not but sigh as Potter's lips slipped down to pay close attention to his much neglected throat. "Impatient Gryffindor."

"Elusive Slytherin," Potter countered, raising a brow in challenge as he tentatively pulled away from his practical worship of Draco's neck. In all honesty, Draco was rather enjoying Potter's appreciation for every piece of him. Thus far, inside and out. True, they argued often enough. But those rows were often petty and could easily be forgotten after a damn fucking good shag- something Draco would have to keep in mind for future spats they were likely to endure. After all, if Potter was serious about helping him move out…

His thoughts were disrupted by a gasp that was teased out of his throat as Potter's hands wandered, snaking possessively about his waist. They pressed comfortably low, just barely enough for fingers to graze his hips. This firmer grip forced Draco closer and this time, he gave in willingly.

Potter bent his face down in order for them brush nose to nose, so close, Draco could feel the butterfly kisses of Potter's lashes on his cheek and his comfortingly steady breath ghosting across his lips.

Draco could taste the slippery wetness of the shower's spray on Potter's lips as they met and he could hardly stand it. Throwing all caution and propriety to the wind, he threw his arms around his neck and kissed with fervency he had never once bestowed upon Astoria… nor on anyone else he had ever kissed. "Could've died…" he spluttered as he broke away, nuzzling against Potter's neck. "Stupid stupid Gryffindor. Could've been killed..."

"Mmm…" Potter confirmed incoherently, maneuvering Draco with a slight pivot so that he found himself shoved up against the tiled lavatory wall. "For you, yes." He lifted his gaze to meet his blond counterpart's, his eyes ablaze with something both dangerous and admiring. "Always for you."

Draco's eyelids fluttered before he could properly snap himself out of it. Merlin… His knee's buckled. He whimpered. "Harry…" He released his hold on Potter's neck and felt himself slip. Potter's arms still about his waist kept him from falling and cracking his head against tiles.

Potter propped him up against the bathtub's ledge and crouched before him, shower still running high above them. "I want you, Draco," Potter went on, as if he had to explain himself, pressing a familiar hand to Draco's bent knee. Draco remained silent, pulse quickening despite how very undignified it was for a Malfoy male to _swoon_,_ heartsick_. His cheeks even had the gaul to blush. What was he? A Hufflepuff?

"This isn't much of a secret. And I will stop at nothing to have you. Even if it means saving your sorry arse every once in a while."

Draco made to argue but was halted mid breath as that practiced mouth slammed up against his once more. He parted his knees in order to wind his legs about Potter's torso and drag him toward him with heels dug into his back. Potter closed the gap between them willingly and pressed himself flush against Draco, who remained with his head resting against the tub's ledge.

They didn't need sex. Not in the usual active, thrusting, fast paced sense. Simply lying here, flush up against one another and reveling in this new development in this complicated relationship of theirs was enough. Their cocks rubbed sensuously against one another as they kissed and Potter's hand fell to Draco's, pulling it down, down in his own so they might take up their aching appendages together. He guided Draco's willing fingers to curl around their paired shafts, all the while never losing the intensity of the kiss. The pump of their hands within one another was lazy but deliberate, in time with the dip of tongue and occasional nudge of nose. Perfect unison. It was at that very moment, Draco truly felt his world and Potter's world had finally aligned. All those messy problems between them- and those he vehemently kept from Potter were non existent.

And here he was, getting everything he had ever wanted.

**A/N: Stubborn stubborn Draco! Review if you agree. Or review if you don't. Or review if you have something else H/D and or _Duality_ related on your mind. :)**


	15. Let's Share What's Ours

**A/N: I wanna let you guys know that the Wolfsbane plotline will be picked back up sometime in the near future, so watch out. But in the meantime, have some fluff. (knowing me, it won't last long...) And as always, Read and Review because I love it when you do. To my most recent reviewers, 1.)Harry, Draco and irony. It doesn't get much better than that, does it? ;) and 2.)There's something really pretty about shower sex. Kinda poetic in a weird way... I was hoping to do it justice anyway. ^-^**

"I think we should go public," was one of Potter's first words upon shrugging a button up shirt over his shoulders. Draco liked the way his still damp midnight dark hair fell in even more of an unruly mess than usual, tousled by Draco's own hands as he had teased shampoo through it.

Potter looked at him expectantly, waiting. Draco frowned, unwilling to part with his towel slung low against his hips in favor of his robes. "With what?" he inquired instead, crossing his arms over his bare chest. Potter's gaze fell appreciatively over this half naked body before him for a lingering second before they were back on Draco's face. He approached him tentatively, his hands reaching out to press securely to Draco's hips.

"With us," Potter sighed, leaning close, too close against Draco's ear.

Draco's eyes widened. "Potter," he reprimanded, with more difficulty than he anticipated. He wished he could push him away but with his hot breath down his neck and his adept fingers kneading his hips… he couldn't. "Scorpius and Astoria… I can't… It'd be a scandal. And you… The press would be on us like vultures."

"I know," Potter conceded with another heavy sigh, returning his gaze to Draco's. His hands moved away from around Draco's waist. Draco regretted the lack of physical contact between them but it didn't last for long. He felt long fingers curl around his own and squeezed, possessive and strong. "But it would be easier to explain why I'm keeping an ex Death Eater in my own home. I'm not saying people are going to be happy about it because they're not. I'm just saying bugger them if they don't approve of us as a couple."

"_Potter_," Draco hissed once more in reproach. He made to move away but Potter's grip on his hands held him tight.

"_Draco_," was Potter's only response as he cunningly closed the gap between them with a tentative kiss. His right hand released Draco's fingers and guided his arm about his waist which freed his own hand to reach up and card his fingers through Draco's still damp hair. "_You_ are _mine_." He squeezed his hand in what Draco felt was a very predatory way. He hissed as Potter's teeth clamped down on his lip through the kiss. "We are going sort out a proposition for your wife _together._ And we are going over the Malfoy Manor _together_ and we are going to show her precisely how much you _are_ mine and how much _I_ need you."

Draco blinked. "You don't _need_ me, Potter," he scoffed at the very idea. The Saviour of the Wizarding World? Needing a failed Death Eater like Draco Malfoy? Why, the idea was laughable. The wizarding world wouldn't believe it. Not goody two shoes Saint Potter and cast him into the hellfire Malfoy…

"Maybe not," Potter agreed quietly, casting his eyes down at the barely there space between them. "But I… I _love_ you, _Draco_. And that should mean…_ everything_."

"You don't _love _me," Draco insisted, feeling suddenly very much short of breath. His chest constricted. He shook his head frantically, wanting to take a step back. He couldn't breathe. "You don't love _me_. You_ can't_…"

Potter let out a small ironic laugh. "I can and I do," he breathed, pulling Draco back up against him. "Why is that so hard to get your head around?"

"You don't _know_ me," Draco replied, desperation rising in his throat. He didn't know why he would fight this. Wasn't this what he wanted?

"I've _known_ you for twenty years," Potter countered easily. "I've had lessons with you. I've worked with you. I've _watched_ you. I've watched you so many times without knowing the true reason _why_. I know that evenings in the Great Hall, you always would wait for the chocolate mousse and lemon tart come dessert. I know when the owls arrived, you would be waiting for sweets from your mother. I know where you snuck off to in the middle of the night in sixth year. I know that you would come into Moaning Mertle's toilets to cry because you couldn't do it anywhere else without being bullied by the other Slytherins. I know that you didn't really want to become a Death Eater because if you did, you would have been able to kill Dumbledore. If you wanted to be a Death Eater, you would have ratted me out that night at the Manor. If you wanted to be a Death Eater, you wouldn't have accepted my hand when I saved you from the Fiendfyre. If you wanted to become a Death Eater, we would have crossed paths since the war. And we never did. Not until now. I _know_ you've changed. I know _we've_ changed. I know we're finally past all that stupid loathing. And I know you're a good person. I know that you're fighting back for a completely different reason. Why fight this, Malfoy?"

Draco's heart clenched at Potter referring to him by his last name once more. He liked his first name on his lips far more. He wanted Potter, after all. He wanted him so completely, it hurt. He wanted him all to himself. No distractions; no disturbances. There were no two sides anymore. There was just them. He wasn't dark and Potter wasn't light. It was no longer the Order versus the Death Eaters. They were no longer on opposite sides of a war.

Their want for one another was more than mutual, if last night and the past few weeks were any indication. So exactly that: why fight it? Because that was the only thing Draco knew how to do.

Potter blinked. "You've never been loved before, have you, Draco? Not like this at least."

Draco frowned, his lips thinning into a fine line. "Malfoys don't thrive on love, alright? We don't go out searching for it. It never just… happens. And when it does, we push it away. A Malfoy can't be vulnerable." A shiver jolted down his spine at the realization that despite all that, he had more than gone searching for it, he had rushed toward it at a sprint, as fast and sure as the Hogwarts Express.

"You're not a Malfoy," Potter replied stubbornly, pressing a comforting hand to his shoulder. "Not by definition. You are _Draco_. You are steadfast and know what you want and how to get it. You can manipulate the hell out of a dangerous situation and you know when it's smarter to turn your tail and run. I know you are hardly the _Malfoy_ your father wanted you to be. You're the _Draco_ you wanted yourself to be. You deserve to be happy, Draco. And I know you want it too."

"I don't know what you're asking, Potter," Draco muttered, looking away because he knew if he were to get even a single glimpse more into the fiery look of Potter's eyes, he'd be scalded. He'd burn up to cinders.

Potter squeezed his hand once more. "I'm asking you to take that step. I'm asking you to acknowledge me as something more than an acquaintance. More than an old school rival. More than a work mate. More than the occasional fuck. I want you to stay and I want you to let me know that I'm yours."

Draco's lip quirked. "I think something can be arranged."


	16. Let's Strike a Bargain

**A/N: Wolfsbane plotline. Next chapter. *crosses fingers* I have plans. Don't you fear. I like that you guys have picked up on the potential for Harry's attack meaning interesting outcomes for the rebellion... well spotted! something's most definitely in the air indeed. as always read and review and you might find out. ;) In the mean time, watch as Draco Malfoy broods... again. because he's the sexiest when he's brooding and Harry rather likes it. ;)  
**

There was something Draco didn't like, seeing Potter sitting at his desk, chair turned at a slant so that he was in Draco's direct line of sight when he glanced up from his scribbling. After everything they had discussed, he felt the only place Potter should be was in bed next to him. He felt the kisses that followed their impassioned conversation were brief at best and should have gone on far longer and should have led to something far more. But it didn't and Potter was as businesslike as ever.

Potter was currently chewing on his quill, deep in thought. Draco felt a tug of affection toward the way his forehead wrinkled as he glanced up toward the ceiling. He was not going to let Astoria get the better of him, of that much he knew. Potter was determined to see this through. However they had to. "We could…" he began, tearing himself out of his ponderings. "…go on the basis that after my attack, you need to watch me just as much as I need to watch_ you_. Merlin knows the effects of my injuries… I need you to make sure everything's alright. And… I'd already promised to protect you on full moon nights. I'm simply doing it more actively than Astoria ever could. And there would be less fear of hurting your family. Your son would be safe."

"Potter," Draco shook his head. In all honesty, all of this made perfect sense. But there was one thing amiss: "The effects of your injuries. If it turns out that you're one of us, I can't sanely take care of you. I can't teach you while I'm a wolf what to do. I don't have the same frame of mind. I don't- I don't think. And I don't know how to avoid the chances of you being set loose in the world out there and if the _Prophet _found out…"

It'd be something to fuel the rebellion. The very thought ripped Draco's breath right from his throat. It was perfect.

"We can get through it together," Potter replied tenderly, getting up to cross the room in order to situate himself precisely where Draco had wanted him. He placed his hand atop of Draco's and squeezed. "We'll figure it out when it comes. But if it's true and I'm… I'm like you, then we can support each other. We can go out there, in the world together. And ease all of that pain of the change." His free hand had slipped up toward Draco's jaw line and was tugging it in order to meet his gaze. "I want to understand you. To be able to help you in every possible way I can. I don't want you to feel you have to hide from me. I want to share everything I have with you and vice versa. I love you far more than Astoria ever could."

"She's not going to give up that easily," Draco shook his head regretfully, wanting all the more to just kiss away the worry that was beginning to flit across Potter's face. A solitary thumb was stroking idly back and forth against his bottom lip. "She'll probably want the Manor. And some semblance of the Malfoy fortune. She'll want Scorpius too." This last demand Astoria was likely to make stung. And he knew, if ever he were to give Scorpius the choice, he'd stand by his mother.

"Let her have it then," Potter murmured insistently. There was a dangerous spark in Potter's eyes that Draco wasn't sure he liked there. "You don't need all that. I have money. I have a home. I'm more than willing to share it with you. And as for Scorpius…" A flicker of doubt crossed his face. "We'll figure something out. You deserve to be in your son's life just as much as I deserve to be in mine."

"They live with Weasley?" Draco inquired coarsely. He didn't want to admit that having that common ground of not having their children close by was comforting. Potter knew his paternal situation. It was something he didn't have to explain away.

Potter nodded gradually, with a purse of his lips. "Ginny… Ginny wasn't best pleased with the way our marriage fell apart. And she… didn't want the kids to have anything to do with me."

Draco blinked. He tried to remember all the headlines during the course of that whole fiasco. Of course, most of them couldn't be taken seriously so he hadn't believed most of the allegations that Potter had cheated… "Why?"

The edge of Potter's lips quirked. "She caught me. With someone else. In a compromising situation. I mean… I was hardly sneaky about it. Usually I was, I'd tell her I was with Ron and Hermione or I was working late… and instead I'd check into Muggle hotels and well… bring back men with me. But that night, something in me snapped and I just…I was done. I was done lying and sneaking around… so on my birthday, I'd gone to the Three Broomsticks, and I told Ginny I would be there and… I'd kissed a man. In public."

Draco raised a brow. "So the rumors… they're true. Those pictures- of you pinned against the wall. That _was_ you. I thought the Prophet was making some heinous mistake."

Potter chuckled. "No, it was me. Every once in a while, they'll print something with a grain of truth. But if you must know…" he leaned forward so that his mouth fell to position close, very close to Draco's ear. "…I didn't leave Ginny for _that_ man. But… I did leave her-" the sigh of Potter's breath was hot and tickled against his skin and his shivered. "-for you."

With that very statement, all the blood in Draco's system pooled low, very low in his belly. "Merlin," he squeaked, in a hardly dignified Malfoy way. "I hardly… I didn't think… I-" he didn't have time to complete whatever though he was trying to relay because he slammed his lips against Potters and kissed, kissed faster and harder and with more fervor than he'd ever kissed before. He found his fingers sliding desperately through Potter's fine dark, dark hair. "I've wanted you. For so long and I only dreamed…"

He could feel Potter smirking against his mouth. "I know."

~.~.~.~.~

"I will not stand for this!" Astoria seethed, pacing wildly back and forth against the luxurious emerald carpet of the drawing room within the Manor. "Draco is not _safe_ with _you._ If what you say is true and you've been in a werewolf attack, he is putting himself in unnecessary danger to protect you. I will not let you take Draco away from his family! My son needs his father!"

"And when have you ever allowed me to _be_ a father to Scorpius?"

Astoria sniffed, nudging her nose up in the air in what Harry saw as a typically haughty Malfoy response. "I don't know how you expect to be a father to him when you do nothing but frighten the child!"

Harry watched Draco warily as he rolled his eyes. "How can you say that when you've _coddled _him for the past ten years? He doesn't know what it is to stand on his own and _not _hide behind his mother! If he's going to be the Malfoy heir, he has to learn how to behave like one!"

Astoria stood at her full height and stalked her way toward her husband. "You-" she jabbed at his chest "-don't deserve to have any say in the Malfoy inheritance. It will all go to Scorpius no matter how he is brought up. It is no longer a manner concerning you! As of the past week you've made your intentions clear that you don't intend on returning to the Manor and therefore have unofficially relinquished the ownership to me. If you are determined to go through with this divorce, you will leave the Malfoy inheritance to me so that I might pass it on to our son when he comes of age."

Draco's eyes narrowed as he stared her down. "We'll set up a vault for him and you will not touch a knut of it. That is my only condition and the Manor and the fortune will be left to you."

Astoria's lips thinned as she considered this offer. Harry sat by in silence, arms crossed. "Fine," she muttered curtly. "Draw up the contract."

Draco's eyes widened but only for the briefest of moments before he checked himself. "Now?"

"Now," she nodded severely. She snapped her fingers and a scroll of parchment and a quill appeared in mid before her. "Ah. Now, you do recall that contract magic is binding, my dear. There is no changing your mind once you run off with your little Chosen One."

"I'm quite aware," he replied through gritted teeth. "Let's just get on with it, shall we?"

~.~.~.~.~

"Well that was almost painless, wasn't it?" Harry muttered as soon as they had flooed back to his apartment. He watched intently as Draco's lip curled.

"I hate this," he spat, slumping down angrily onto the nearest chair. "I _hate _that she can just do that. Take my son away from me! I-I…"

"You love him." Harry's eyes gleamed as Draco turned away. "It's alright, Draco. He's your son. You're allowed to that way for him."

"But I'm not allowed to bond with him? I'm not allowed to look at him? I'm not allowed to teach him what it means to be a man? A proper, powerful wizard?" Draco's toes curled in his immaculately polished shoes as he seethed.

"I understand why she's doing it," Harry started, approaching his fair haired companion. He held up his hands in order to keep whatever snarky comment Draco had coming for him. "I know she's trying to protect him from the wolf in you. I can see that. I can see she's scared. Her only child… I couldn't bear the thought if anything where to happen to James, Al or Lily. But at least I know they're safe. I know Ginny will look after them. I trust her. But your marriage… it's not built upon mutual trust as you both have liked to believe. And Draco, you're not a bad man. That's where she's wrong. You have every right to see your son. We'll- we'll find a way. I promise. We'll figure it out."

"There are a few too many things we've got to figure out," Draco grumbled, just barely out of Harry's earshot.

Harry sighed with a roll of his eyes. He couldn't help but feel a great affection toward Draco and his short temper. He knew he had once regretted seeking out Malfoy, but now, now that all that he felt was out there in the open, all of this? Felt alright. More than alright. There was a mutual trust beginning to finally form between them.

"Hey," he breathed, reaching out his hand for Draco to take. "Come 'ere."

Draco was hesitant, glaring back at him but Harry knew he was beginning to shake his resolve. He took his hand with a firm grip and was pulled upwards into his arms. He hated feeling this vulnerable. "It'll be okay." He reached out a hand to brush the hair away from Draco's forehead. He pressed his lips to the furrow between his brows and pulled ever so slightly away.

"It'll be okay."


	17. Let's Break Us Both

**A/N: Alright. I'm really sorry for the long wait... but I've been working on this chapter and thinking it through in such a hard core kind of way. And it had to be dealt with right because it's a really really really heavy issue ahead. I should probably give you warnings, but if I did, it would ruin what's coming up. So, I'll just say that some of you may be uncomfortable with what follows. Just keep that in mind and if you have a single inkling what's going on at any point and you don't want to go further, I recommend you put this away for the next chapter. But I do assure you, I'm not here to give you squicks, I'm here to tell a story and I promise you, it's here to further the plot. Otherwise, I would not have included it. And as of last week, I now have an ending. It's quite far off, you'll be pleased to know, but I know where we're going with this. And I promise you, it's gonna be pretty awesome.  
**

** As for warnings I_ can_ give, here be lots and lots of f-bombs. And more man-on-man. (don't let that fool you though... it might not be the kind you like...) But seriously! Do read! I recommend that you read! It's all going somewhere, just bear with me.**

All this research was grating on Draco's nerves. He flicked another page of yet another dusty tome on werewolves. Potter had insisted that they try to go as far back as they possibly could to get the best understanding of the creatures. Considering Draco knew the perpetrator of the crimes they were investigating, this would do little for their case. But, however begrudgingly, he had to admit that he was learning more about what he was and where his condition came from. Even better, he could look into potential new ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion. He needed to put together an antedote. If he were to get there first, the glory would be his and no one would think twice about his crimes. If anything, he would pin it on one of the black traders and be done with it. But with Potter breathing down his neck…

A familiar hand reached out to fall on his left shoulder. He flinched but did not pull away. "Found anything?" Potter inquired absently, doing that thing he enjoyed doing the most- interrupting Draco's latest schemes.

Draco shook his head with a sigh, folding down one corner of a page he would most definitely have to revisit at a later time before snapping the book shut. "Not yet. These tomes are far too ancient to be comprehended. How do they expect us to understand these daft archaic words?"

Potter squeezed his shoulder affectionately. Of all people, he would have expected Draco to appreciate the old tradition of the texts. But perhaps Draco's nerves were worn too thin for any of that… "You could try the computer, you know," he quipped in that self-righteous way he did whenever he mentioned anything remotely _muggle_.

Draco sneered, daring a wary glance in the direction of the death trap Potter called a "computer". "How in Salazar Slytherin's name would someone get information out of this daft piece of metal? Talk to it? Ask it questions? I really very much doubt this _muggle_ monstrosity could tell me a single _thing_ about werewolves."

Potter rolled his eyes, his fingers squeezing away again like a vice before releasing him and leaning forward toward the monstrosity in question. "There's a little something called the internet," he smirked knowingly, pressing a button which made a loud pinging sound before lighting a screen up at his touch. Potter crossed his arms and waited with a triumphant expression blatant across his face. Draco wanted nothing more than to slap that smug look off his face but to be perfectly honest, the square screen thing had begun to change from its grey start up page and it was- dare he say it- _fascinating_. There was the faintest of hums coming from it and Draco was ashamed to find that he couldn't look away. _Typical_. He should have known these muggle things would go and _hypnotize_ people…

"And what, pray tell is an internet, Potter? My mind is oh so aflutter with want of knowledge."

Potter spluttered for the least complicated explanation. "Well… you see… it's this… page which pops up on the screen. And… it's linked to a web browser. And that allows you to um… gain access to pretty much whatever information you want." He searched his head, hoping he had made any resemblance of sense.

Draco dragged his gaze away from the screen for a moment to fix incredulously on Potter. His fair brows furrowed in confusion. Potter happened to find this expression utterly endearing. "In English, Potter."

Potter sighed. "You type stuff in with the keyboard and the computer will search it for you and comes up with results."

Draco's expression didn't change. "And where in the bloody fuck does the information come from? Thin air? This isn't magic, Potter. If it were magic, it wouldn't be muggle. And how long does this _information_ take to get here anyway? Are we talking about weeks because I would very much like to solve this_ before_ I die."

"Oh for bloody…" Potter gave him a swift, unnecessary shove out of the desk chair and rested his fingers on the keyboard. His fingers flew against the keys. With one final tap. a page appeared out of thin air on the screen. "There. Knock yourself out. Just… don't blow it up like you did the toaster, alright?"

Draco couldn't help but note the very sudden escalation of agitation in the way Potter turned on his heel and stormed out. Was he not exuding the utmost patience with Draco not five minutes ago? He blinked, shaking his head. He let his cheek fall into his waiting hand and poked experimentally at one of the keys, expecting a jolt of that eccletricity to rush through him like it did when he messed with the toast machine a few days ago with his wand.

~.~.~.~.~

Two weeks passed. Inexplicably, tension was beginning to mount in Potter's flat. Perhaps it was just that this was Potter Draco was dealing with and they were bound to fight on an almost daily basis. He was a fool not to expect it. After all, they _were _childhood enemies back in the day. It wasn't like Potter's constant snapping at him was at all foreign to Draco. But he wished he'd stop. Because he knew that as soon as Potter opened his great blundering, unthinking mouth of his, he wouldn't be able to stop himself. Draco had to speak his mind when confronted.

And it was about stupid things. Like how apparently Draco hadn't wiped down the counters before coming to bed last night. Or he forgot to screw the lid back onto the toothpaste. God forbid if he accidentally on purpose set one of Potter's precious muggle appliances on fire…

"What the bloody fuck did you do _that_ for?"

Well… would you look at that? Potter was yelling at him again. Draco rolled his eyes, trudging reluctantly back into Potter's study where the com-poo-tor was still smoking, it's screen split clean in two, a nice jagged line right down the middle. "What the fucking hell did I_ tell _you, Malfoy? Fuck, it's like you never listen to me! _Ever_!"

"Potter," Draco took a breath, trying to keep a level head. If Potter was going to get like this with him, he'd have to learn to be the rational one. "Potter… it's alright. We'll do a Repairo and it'll be just… just fine." He pinched the bridge of his nose to keep his anger in check. His nostrils flared as he breathed deeply in and out.

"Just _fine_? _Just_ _fine_?" Potter took a looming step toward him, his emerald eyes darkening with a dangerous flash behind lenses.

Draco flinched.

Potter rounded on him. "Don't you fucking tell me this will be_ just_ fine! You always _do_ this! You ruin _everything_ you touch, Malfoy-_ everything_!" He'd grabbed up Draco's wrist in his grip, like a vice. His face pressed closer to him as the distance between them shrunk. Draco could feel his breathing rough and hot on his cheek. He tried to nudge his face away. So that he didn't have to see the murderous gleam in Potter's eyes when he looked at him.

"What the _fuck_ is _wrong_ with you?" he managed, no longer able to just stand back and take the hit again and again and again. The blood in his veins was beginning to boil. He could only take so much. "Fuck, Potter. And we were having such a _dandy _time… was your professing your deepest, most passionate of feelings for me really _that_ important to you? That now that it's out in the open, you have the right to treat me like a house elf? Like a door mat? This is not love, Potter. Whatever the fuck your fucked up mind thinks love is, this is _not_ it. What the _fuck_ are you doing now? Are you going to hit me, Potter? 'Cause I'd rather you just get it over with. Right now." His chest heaved as he took a cautious, yet defiant step back. The expression on Potter's face didn't change but the grip on Draco's wrist increased in strength. With the greatest force Draco hadn't been aware Potter possessed, he felt his free hand slam down against his shoulder and he was being pressed violently against the wall behind them.

He squirmed in Potter's grip. It only made him pin him down faster and harder than before. He pulled his wrist up over his head and held it there with the slightest twist. "Don't you fucking move, Malfoy, you pure blood scum."

Draco spluttered for purchase of any comprehension of these words. _Pure blood scum_…? This wasn't like Harry. This wasn't like Harry at all. His blows were low, but not_ that_ low. Potter would never reach the same low as his father did. "P-potter…" he was beginning to feel nauseous, bile rising in his throat. "Harry. Stop. Just… just stop."

Potter didn't stop. He made his choice abundantly clear as a wet tongue licked its way from Draco's jaw to the soft contour behind his ear, torturously slow and with purpose. Draco gave a bodily shudder, his toes curling against floorboards. "You like that, Malfoy. Don't you? Bet you get hard on that,_ don't_ you?" Potter's chest heaved perilously as he pulled away ever so slightly to shrug away his work robes. Draco didn't dare move lest he get a swift and painful curse to his only appendage that mattered.

He wouldn't have had the time to consider moving because before he knew it, he was being slammed forcedly back up against the wall, this time hard enough for his head to collide with the solid surface. And lips were on him, devouring as if intending to eat him whole, from his lips right down to his toes in one long serpentine gulp. It was less of a kiss and more of a bite. That just kept tearing and tearing at his very being, searching for a foothold, some place to draw blood and to suck him dry of any existing life left in him.

Draco felt himself slipping to the floor against the wall. His heart pounded up in his chest as he tried to get his brain to function through this. "Ah," he winced as Potter's teeth traveled down to the recess between his collarbone and shoulder while his hands absently but expertly rearranged Draco beneath him. He was biting down. Hard. Enough to surely tear flesh. He could feel what could only be the trickle of blood (or perhaps it was merely saliva) slide sickeningly down his chest as he felt his body lie flat against the floor, his head still propped against the wall.

Draco couldn't stop it if he tried.

Still worse when he was given respite and Potter's lips tore away from him, it was for a mere moment in which he used that damned mouth to utter a spell that left Draco naked, sweating and quaking through his skin, which felt far heavier than ordinary- like he was wearing elephant hide. Beads of sweat trickled down his brow. Painstaking. He tried to remember to breathe but Potter was on him, claiming him and all he could do was cry out.

Potter was tugging his legs with a jerk up and over his shoulders, forcing his way into him before he could protest. It took the excruciating pain of being stretched to accommodate something far larger than his nether regions were prepared for, for Draco to do something. _Anything. _"P-Potter. Potter… S-stop-" his voice was weak and choked off by a hot, wet and wanting mouth. He could feel the tears crashing down on him, fast and hard as Potter ignored him, instead thrusting up against him; thrusting inside him. And he wasn't ready.

He wasn't ready for any of this.

**A/N: So, if non-con is not your thing, I apologize for putting you through that. I know, it's just awful.  
**

**I_ so_ hate to make Harry the villain... =,( My poor Draco... 3 Plotline's gonna get dark, real fast. So hang on.  
**

**On the up side, I'll give virtual cookies to anyone who thinks they might know what the hell is going on in Harry's head right now... (actually, through all the fear, I'm surprised Draco hasn't figured it out himself...) But it's kinda important. ;) Who thinks they know? Theorize away.**


	18. Let's Walk Away Unscathed

**A/N: Well... thank you guys, for sticking it through the hot mess that is one psychologically malfunctioning Harry... I've got surprisingly more followers for it... huh. O.o' But this also means a bad omen for our boys... Like Draco's ever been one to easily forgive... I've received several theories, and you've all played right into my little trap. mwahhahaha. What trap you say? Well... you're gonna have to wait and find out. ;) But just cuz you all asked so nicely, it is indeed roughly a_ week_ before another full moon hits the werewolf population and you know what that means...**

"_Draco_."

Harry blinked. His head was throbbing as if he'd just woken up after having a few too many the night before. He was far from surprised to find him there, on the bed next to him, but he couldn't quite recall how exactly they _got _there.

Draco gave a bodily shudder as Harry tried to reach out to him. He thought perhaps he was just cold- his naked form was only half covered by thin sheets. His theory seemed to ring true as he tugged the sheets up full against his chin, shielding his body from Harry's view. His knuckles were white as they clutched the sheet to him. Besides his hands, he barely moved, not even to meet Harry's gaze.

Harry reached out once more, a small smile playing across his face. He was seconds away from brushing his fair companion's cheek with his forefinger when Draco jerked away.

"Don't- don't…" Draco struggled to articulate his words, his hands shaking against the blanket. "Don't_ touch_ me. You h-have no right. Not after what you did." He tried to get up but Harry knew he was struggling. He reached out with one hand to grip the bedside table for stability before gingerly swinging his legs one by one over toward the edge of the bed. With his back turned to Harry, he took the sheets with him, wrapping him up like comfort itself.

Harry frowned, watching as his feet disappeared, making contact with squeaky floor boards. Draco winced but said nothing more. Not even when his dreadfully wobbling legs failed him and he caught himself on the bedside table as he keeled over, leaving the sheet to fall away from his vulnerable form.

"Draco…" Harry said again, this time with some trepidation as it became apparent as to why his lover was so upset. Draco didn't have the strength to bend down and retrieve his sheath, so it remained, crumpled on the floor at his feet and Harry was given an unobstructed view of that familiarly firm backside. "_Draco_-" his voice grew sharp as his eyes darted southward over his thighs.

Blood. There was blood, dried and crusting there, between his legs. He let out a course breath, running his hand anxiously through his hair. "Draco, please turn around." He could feel the tears welling up in his throat. He couldn't have. He wouldn't… How could this have happened? "_Please_."

Draco's breathing hitched as he shook his head, slow and full of regrets. "I can't, Potter. You know I can't."

He slumped back down on the bedspread anyhow, certain to keep his back to Harry, even if Harry knew all he wanted was to curl up in the middle of the bed and cry. And Harry wished he could let him. He wished he could be the one to comfort him in his time of need, to weave his arms around his waist and kiss the tears away. But somehow, he'd fucked up. And for the life of him, he couldn't remember _how_.

"Draco…" he tried again, the muscles in his throat clenching to keep the tears at bay. "I am _so_ sorry."

Draco shifted ever so slightly on the bed and for one brief moment of hope, Harry thought perhaps he might look at him.

"Potter."

Harry sucked in a breath, waiting for something, _anything_, anything that might forgive him to come out of it.

"Dress me," he mumbled, barely audible as he gazed blankly down at the floor.

"I…" Of all the things Harry had been expecting, it hadn't been that. "Yeah… yeah, of course. Let me just…" he slipped off the bed in order to acquire a set of clean clothes. It was the least he could do to make him look respectable again. If nothing else.

He reached the dresser, pulling out a drawer that held most of Draco's more casual garments. He could hear the rustle of sheets and the squeak of bedsprings indicating Draco's shift into a more comfortable, horizontal position. When Harry turned 'round, he found Draco lying, once more with his back turned, his face pressed into a pillow.

Now that Harry could see him more clearly, (he'd snatched his glasses off his own bedside table), he noticed the scratches. All the way down his back, from shoulder blades to the part of his cheeks. His breath caught in his throat. Nausea hit him, pummeling away at his insides like poison doing a quick job of corroding, wearing them down. Those wounds… those _fresh_ wounds… They reminded him forcefully of the Sectumsempra he'd unwittingly cast in sixth year, that left Draco bleeding to death on the bathroom floor while murky water circled a nearby drain…

It made him wonder what else he could have possibly done to the one person he had ever trusted himself to be with since Ginny. And he had just…

"Draco?" He could feel the bile rising in his throat, the clothes lying limp in his uncaring hands. How the fuck _could _he? "Did you… I mean- would you rather I clean you up first?"

It was in that instant, with a galloping of Harry's heart, Draco stirred to meet his gaze.

"No," he hissed, every piece of him scathing. His face was blotchy and red from tears, humiliation or anger, Harry couldn't tell. Probably a bit of all three. He sat up, gingerly bringing his tired knees to his chest. He wound his arms around them, pressing his chin to his knees. His bangs fell over his eyes and cast a shadow over the ominous spite that settled there. "I want you to see precisely what you've done, Potter. I want you to remember. I want you to feel every single twist in your gut when you see in your mind's eye what _you_ did to me. I want you to feel disgust at yourself. I want you to think of me and think of the way I left you, bleeding, broken and barely able to walk. You don't _get_ the_ satisfaction _of a happy memory of us. Not anymore. No more Saint Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, Potter. The Boy Who Lived Again and Again, Potter. The Chosen one _Potter_."

He sneered that trademark Malfoy sneer, the malice all in tact, after all these months that he'd dropped it just for Harry. And here he was, slipping the family heir loom back on- that mask of indifference, of superiority. But he knew Draco better than that. He was _scared_. "_No_. You will dress me and you will help me to your floo. I will leave and I will _never_ see your face again. _Never_." There was a tremor in his voice that betrayed his fear and regret. But he kept his guard and didn't lower his gaze.

Malfoy's proverbial knife was already twisting away at his heart, painfully slow. He couldn't breathe.

"But I _loved_ you."

Draco's eyes flashed as he forced a twisted yet sad smile. "Obviously not enough,_ Potter_. Throw me the fucking shirt and I'll leave with my dignity in tact."

With a quiver of his lip, Harry surrenders the heap of clothes into Malfoy's waiting lap. Draco took up his shirt and thrust it on without any second thought. Hesitant, Harry moved to unfold his trousers and tentatively took hold of his ankle in order to guide his foot through the first leg. And so they went at the beginnings of the end of their decidedly doomed affair.

~.~.~.~.~

Astoria looked less than pleased to find him there, in the middle of her drawing room floor, arriving unannounced. When he looked up at her with that silent plea in his eyes, she knew. She knew she was right all along. With a smirk, she bent down to offer her hand, which he gratefully took and hauled himself up.

Draco scowled, dusting himself off after slumping down on the chaise by the fire. That smug look on her face made him want to curse her to oblivion. He knew she would hold this over his head likely for the rest of his days.

"Don't you _dare_ say it."

**A/N: I know. I broke Draco/Harry. =,( I'm sad too. Even though I know what's gonna go down with these two. They're not finished. Not by a long shot. :)  
**

**And look at that, I dodged the is-Harry-a-werewolf? question. You'll have to wait another chapter or two for that one... (yeah, I love to leave you hangin'.*cough* that and I kinda sorta feel it should have it's own chapter to itself. It'll be answered very soon though.) but in the mean time, anyone ready for some Scorpius? cuz I say it's about time.  
**


	19. Let's Live Our Lives

**A/N: Okay. I had every intention of rolling out another chapter immediately after the last one because I was getting some really concerned reviews and I didn't want people to get the wrong idea. Unfortunately, I got caught up with that pesky thing called university and had to do a ton of reading and essay writing. Which is a pain but that's what you get for taking three literature courses... But- saving grace, new chapter's here now and we're getting a break from all the angst (unless you're like me and just can't get enough of the angst. To you, I sincerely apologize. I guarantee it'll be back.) Aaaand... I am throwing you guys _some_ wolfish info this time. I won't be _much _of a tease. *coughs*. Don't let looks deceive you though... it could be exactly what you're thinking... or it could be something else. But something's going down soon. ;)**

"Harry, you look awful!" were the first unfortunate words out of Hermione's painstakingly observant mouth upon entry into Harry's flat. Harry let out a groan. He knew how awful he looked- Merlin- it looked precisely how he _felt_, but he'd hoped he'd be able to put on a cheery face for when Ron and Hermione came over for dinner this week end. After all, he needed the company. His flat was too quiet now that Malfoy had gone…

"I _feel_ awful," he sighed, gesturing toward the ratty chairs scattered about his living room before slumping down in an overstuffed armchair. He balanced his elbow on one of the chair's arms and pressed his palm against his temple.

Hermione scrutinized him with concern as Ron took his place next to his wife on Harry's couch. He had shadows under his eyes and his jet black hair was even more unruly than usual, looking as though he hadn't even bothered to_ try_ to tame it this morning. If she didn't know any better, she'd say his state reminded her a lot of…

Remus Lupin.

She frowned, leaning forward slightly. Ron rolled his eyes, knowing this was a sign she was going to launch into her latest theory. "Harry, when was the last time you slept?"

Harry moaned, massaging his temple. "Some… some time yesterday afternoon," he mumbled through a gaping yawn. "I had a bit of a kip in the middle of sorting through paperwork at the Ministry. Been having trouble sleeping at night without Draco here."

Ron frowned with a forced laugh. "What- mate, I thought you were just putting him up for a while. And by putting him up I mean putting up… _with_ him. You can't miss him_ that_ much."

Hermione's gaze darted between Ron and Harry and back again. She opened her mouth as a thought came to her. She closed it again, gauging Harry's expression a second time. "It's been more than that, hasn't it?"

It took Harry a moment to comprehend what she meant through the haze of sleep deprivation. "Wha-"

Hermione sighed, leaning even further forward toward him. Ron mirrored her movements for good measure. "I mean… You and him. It wasn't just a formal arrangement. You wanted him here and he wanted to be here with you."

"What?" Ron outright guffawed this time. "Hermione, do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? Harry and… and _Malfoy_? Mate, I know the whole wizarding world knows you bat for the other team- the Prophet couldn't keep their nose out of it, but _Malfoy_?"

Harry shook his head, rolling his eyes up toward the ceiling. "It doesn't matter. It's done- _we're_ done. I screwed it up and he never wants to see me again. Just like Ginny." He slumped back against the cushions and folded his arms.

"Oh Harry…" Hermione sighed sympathetically, reaching across the coffee table for his hand. He accepted her gesture with gratitude.

"Well, does it surprise you, mate?" Ron sniffed, slumping back against the couch next to Hermione. "I mean, it _is_ Malfoy after all. What did you expect?"

"Oh, _please_, Ronald," Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's not as if we haven't seen Harry's past consorts. All thin, blond hair, blue eyes... Harry's been pining for Draco for _years_. And anyway, this is the first time he's been in a relationship since the divorce. Oh Harry, I'm so sorry. This must be awful. No wonder you're a mess."

Harry frowned. "Thanks, Hermione," he responded awkwardly, unable to interpret this comment as good or bad. " I just…" he bit his lip. He leaned forward in order for Hermione to hear him better, as if there was someone in the room he wanted to keep this from. "I did something bad. Far worse than what I did to Ginny," he whispered. "And… the thing is…" he turned to Ron, just to acknowledge that he was still part of the conversation. His friend perked up, realizing the significance of what he was about to say. "…I don't remember any of it. I know what I must have done, because it was clear as day, all over his face, but… I don't remember how or when or why I did it."

"Well, mate, you ever think Malfoy's just overreacting? I mean… he did have a habit of blowing things out of proportion," Ron suggested with a shrug. "Slytherin drama queen in my opinion."

Harry stayed his hand. "No. No, this is something far more serious. I saw it. I-I can't quite explain it-" here he passed Hermione a significant glance to which she peered over her shoulder at Ron for the briefest of seconds before answering with a swift nod of understanding. Ron frowned, uncomprehending of the little exchange. "But I know it happened."

"Well, Harry, did he say anything?" Hermione inquired calmly, noting Harry's rising anxiety.

He shook his head. "No. He was too… he was too upset. I'd really really spooked him, Hermione."

"Spooked Malfoy?" Ron snorted. "Like it'd take much to spook him. Only he's a werewolf now, ain't he?"

Hermione let out a gasp. "_Ron_!" she flew up out of her seat with a flurry of hand gestures. "Oh my goodness! Your _werewolf_ attack! Harry, you were_ bitten_!"

Harry raised his brows. "Yeah… I'm very well aware of that, Hermione. How could I forget?" he inquired emphatically, pressing his hand to his side where his wound was getting close to full recovery- only leaving a glaring scar in its wake. "You think I can't remember because-" It was beginning to hit him precisely what Hermione was suggesting…

"Because your body's preparing you for your transformation! Full moon is in less than a week!" She slapped a palm to her temple and dragged her fingers through her untamable mane of hair. "And _that's _why you've been having trouble sleeping- werewolves are nocturnal!"

Ron let out a breath of disbelief. "Bloody hell."

~.~.~.~.~

Draco tried not to think about _it_. He had other things to concentrate on. Now that he was back at the Manor, he wasn't there out of the good of Astoria's heart. Oh no. He had to suck _up _to her. He had to make up for his foolish attempt at divorcing her and running off with Saint Potter, the Boy Who Said He Loved Him and Then... Well.

Considering they'd already drawn up the divorce settlement and the Manor was as good as Astoria's now, Draco couldn't demand she give it back without breaking the bonds of the settlement. And Scorpius…

Well, Astoria had no choice but to permit him to see his son now that they were living under the same roof once more. At least _some_ good came out of this arrangement.

The boy was being tutored by some young wizard barely out of Hogwarts. Draco conveniently paid the teen off to leave Scorpius well enough alone for the day. It was about time he had some quality time with his son. Draco found him in his chambers, sitting at his desk, doodling lazily with his quill to parchment, his cheek pressed into his waiting hand. He was the picture of his father at eleven. The resemblance was uncanny. Draco couldn't help but smile at his son's fortunate genetics.

"Scorpius," he greeted him from the doorway, taking things one step at a time. After all, he had not seen the boy for a good month since he had started the Wolfsbane case and he knew what Scorpius was like after so long.

The boy's mercurial grey eyes darted instantaneously toward him. He dropped his quill and sat up straighter. He slipped his elbows back under the table, which caused the scroll beneath them to spring back into it's rolled up sheath. "Father," he complied easily enough. "You've returned."

Draco nodded, crossing his arms. "That's right."

Scorpius worried his lower lip between his teeth. "Are you… staying?" there was a glimmer of hope in his son's eyes that made Draco's heart leap. Perhaps their relationship wasn't such an impossible fix after all…

He nodded again. "For now." He took a tentative step or two forward, into the room. "Is that alright? With you?"

Scorpius blinked, dumbfounded by this question. "I…" He furrowed his brow. "I guess so." He glanced down interestedly at his well polished shoes, which kicked out one after another as he swung his legs. "Mother says you're not safe. The full moon…"

Draco forced a smile. "Scorpius-" he knelt down before his son. "I have been doing this a long, long time and I have worked out what I need to do to protect you when I change. Believe me when I tell you that I have no intention of letting any werewolf hurt you. I promised myself I would do everything in my power to keep you safe from the moment you were born. And do you know why?"

Scorpius blinked again.

Draco settled a hand against his son's own. "Because I love you," he forced out the words like they were the only things that would ever matter to him. Losing Potter made him realize how he only had so much time to communicate precisely how he felt to those he did care about. Even if it was the hardest thing he could ever say.

"My son."

Scorpius' brow remained wrinkled but his guard was beginning to drop. "Father…" His lip quivered slightly as he threw himself into Draco's arms, warm, close and kin.

**A/N: Any of this feeling anticlimactic/too predictable? After all, what devious things could we possibly get up to with a werewolf Harry? (He'd actually make quite the weapon... but how could it possibly that easy?) I'll also admit, I have a soft spot for Scorpius ever since I got a good play with him in Liberation. (he's far cuter in that than this but we'll definitely see...)  
**

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